


Our New Life

by Infinitua



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Domestic, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Explicit Consent, F/M, Family, Family Dynamics, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Family Reunions, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Gen, Grandmothers, Happy, Happy Ending, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Other, Palawan (La casa de papel), Porn with Feelings, Reunion Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Soulmates, Sweet/Hot, serquel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:27:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 69,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26163364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Infinitua/pseuds/Infinitua
Summary: A loving, multi-generational blended family adapts to the new life they have chosen.***Looking for some sweet & sexy Serquel in love?You’ve come to the right place.***+family cuteness aboundsCH 1: ~ The family is finally reunited on Palawan ~CH 2: ~ Serquel, Serquel, SerquelCH 3: ~ The family enjoys lunch, and Paula enjoys attention ~CH 4: ~ Raquel feels lovedCH 5: ~ Serquel, Serquel, Serquel
Relationships: Raquel Murillo/Professor | Sergio Marquina, Serquel - Relationship
Comments: 142
Kudos: 203





	1. Together Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~ Sergio and Raquel reunite with their family in Palawan ~
> 
> ♡
> 
>   
>  [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/190672350@N04/50497317507/in/dateposted-public/)   
>    
> 

♥

Sergio’s eyes dart back and forth between his watch and the open sea. 

Where _are_ they? 

Her plane has landed, the handler has picked her up, and she is on her way here, to her family, via fishing boat. He has waited patiently for her return for over a month, but these last few hours feel never-ending. 

He is seated at the dining table, while his fingers press the final crease to form a paper beak. He places it next to the last one, and now he has ten paper cranes looking at him. They are clearly mocking him. He should make a boat next. On the highly unlikely chance that manifesting is real. 

His fingers reach for a new origami square. 

Time is time, he reminds himself.

It’s just his _sense_ of time that is irrational right now. 

But even that follows a well-established pattern because every feeling that he has ever had about Raquel Murillo has been completely and utterly irrational. She makes him feel so alive and unlike himself … in the best way possible. Like a man whose experiences he aspired to have … but never thought that he actually would. 

He looks to the sea yet again, but the horizon is still empty. Sighing, his fingers continue to fold paper, relying on muscle memory, while his mind wanders.

Then he feels a reassuring hand on his shoulder, and he looks at the grey-haired woman. 

“Hold on just a little bit longer,” she whispers, giving him a reassuring tap. 

The best he can manage is a small nod.

But temporarily distracted, he watches Mariví walk to the other side of the table where Paula is immersed in her very colorful notebook. 

“How is journal writing going, dear?” Mariví asks. 

“I already have eight full pages!” Paula responds excitedly. “I didn’t know that a journal can be like a best friend! Olaf already knows everything. I told him about you and about mamá and papá and Salva and the plane ride.”

“Wow, that’s a lot! You’re already a writer, cariño,” Mariví says affectionately, before moving to the kitchen area at the other end of the room. 

She has been checking on the food every five minutes, even though every dish has been ready for over half an hour. 

His attention is recaptured by Paula when she asks him, “What do you think, Salva?”

“Uh—eh—uh …” he stammers, at a complete loss as to what to say. He is suddenly aware of his heartbeat, while Paula’s expectant eyes bore into his. 

Sergio’s brain quickly runs through the ten principles of good parenting that he memorized in anticipation of moments like these. He hopes _be supportive in a genuine way_ is the right choice for this moment.

“Eight pages in three days? That is very impressive,” he responds with a small smile. 

The girl holds his gaze for a moment; it seems like she is deciding whether to trust his words. After a few incredibly long seconds, she matches his small smile, and focuses her attention back on her journal. 

“They both think I’m doing great, Olaf!” she tells the notebook. 

Sergio lets out a quiet sigh of relief. He seems to have passed another test. 

When the hell is Raquel going to get here? There are only so many times he can avoid royally screwing up. And that is not because he lacks confidence. That is just basic probability theory. 

He watches as Paula picks up a purple pen and starts writing again. She seems to be at the stage where writing takes concerted effort, but her confidence and eagerness propel her forward. He wonders if that is common for children who spend more time around adults than peers. He was probably that kind of child too. Or maybe he is just trying to find any common ground with the girl in order to feel a little less out of his depth. 

Everything will be easier once Raquel gets here. 

Paula switches her purple pen for a pink one. Today, she is writing every sentence in a different color. 

The journal was a gift from Raquel for Paula’s first big trip without her parents, and it has been a true blessing. In the past few days, every time he noticed Paula’s mood shift, and his brain started anticipating her meltdown and his own screw up, Paula would fetch her journal and would either start whispering to it or writing in it. 

He wonders how long that routine will last, but he is not about to poke that bear. He thanks his lucky stars for Raquel’s ingeniousness. 

But then again, everything about Raquel is impressive. 

How on earth did he get so lucky?

He looks at his watch again and then scans the sea with his eyes. 

Suddenly, he sees something on the horizon that appears to be heading towards the house.

Could it be them?

He grabs the binoculars from the table. 

He can see a blurry image of two people on a fishing boat.

Still adjusting the binoculars, he whispers to himself, “It must be them …”

When the image finally sharpens, all he sees is her, and she is a vision.

“It’s them! It’s them!” he yells. 

“Is it mami?”

“Yes! Yes! It’s mami!” he exclaims, still looking through the binoculars. 

He cannot hold in his excitement, and why should he? She is finally here!

“Can I see too?” Paula asks with a mix of enthusiasm and caution. 

“Of course! Come, come!” he gestures to her excitedly, and she immediately jumps out of her chair. 

The grin on his face feels momentarily foreign, and he realizes that he has not smiled from ear to ear since the day Raquel left to bring the rest of her life to him. 

And now, the most important piece of that life … _their_ life, is standing in front of him, shaking with excitement at the thought of seeing her mami again. 

He hands Paula the binoculars and motions for her to turn around to face the sea. 

Her head starts moving frantically left to right and back again.

“Hey, hey,” he says gently, “slow down.” 

He places his hand over hers and directs the binoculars towards the blurry shape in the sea.

“Now, move this ring here to focus the image,” he explains, guiding her finger to the ring. 

He waits as Paula learns to adjust the binoculars through trial and error, mumbling in frustration, and in this moment, she could not be more like her mother if she tried. 

He feels a hand on his shoulder again, and when he looks up, he exchanges a smile with Mariví. 

The moment they have all been waiting for is finally here. 

“I see her! It’s mami, it’s mami!” 

Paula jumps up and down and her squeals of joy only make his smile widen. He knows his face is going to hurt in a couple of hours just like it did the day Raquel first arrived to Palawan almost two months ago. 

He cannot wait to get used to grinning like this every day. 

“Ready to go?” he asks.

Paula just shrieks in response, flinging herself down the steps and running down the beach as if her life depends on it. And it does. 

Because as much as the idea turned his stomach, the extraction plan of Raquel’s family from Spain was only complete when they anticipated all possible outcomes, and the likelihood of Paula ending up on Palawan with just him and Mariví had not been insignificant. 

But none of that matters anymore because she is finally here!

He springs to his feet, glancing between Paula’s running figure and Mariví’s smile, wanting to follow Paula with every fiber of his being, but not wanting to leave Mariví behind. 

Suddenly remembering, he walks briskly to the kitchen, confirming that the stove and oven are off. 

He walks back to Mariví, reaches for one of her hands, and leads her slowly down the few stairs that end in the sand. 

Paula is already at water’s edge, jumping up and down, glancing back and forth between them and the fishing boat, yelling, “Hurry up! Hurry up!” and he can’t tell if she is yelling to them or to Raquel, but they are all so happy and it does not matter.

When their feet touch the sand, Mariví withdraws her hand from Sergio’s and gestures for him to go to Paula. 

When he hesitates, she gives him a friendly slap on his shoulder. 

“Go! Just go!”

And then he is running, air filling his mouth because he cannot stop smiling, his bare feet barely touching the ground. He feels weightless, and he thinks that this is what flying must feel like. 

Breathless when he reaches the girl, his joy matches hers, and following his gut instinct, he opens his arms out to her. 

She jumps into his embrace with a shriek, and he spins them both in circles, Paula whirling above his head. 

Her elated laughter is music to his ears, and he revels in this new sensation. He never thought he would ever partake in such a pure form of happiness. 

Breathless again, he sits her on his shoulders as she squeals happily. 

Mariví has just about reached them, and he can finally make out Raquel’s form with his bare eyes. 

Even as a silhouette, leaning precariously over the side of a fishing boat, she is an absolute vision. His breath catches in his throat, and he briefly wonders if his middle-aged heart will be able to handle this reunion or if he will simply die of so much happiness. 

She waves at them, and he returns her wave. 

He is startled out of his trance when Paula starts waving so furiously with her entire body that he has to widen his stance and hold on to her with both hands to stop them both from falling flat on their faces. 

“Mamiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!” the girl yells.

“Paulaaaaaaaaaa!” Raquel yells back.

“Mamiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!” Paula repeats, and suddenly it’s like a screaming match between mother and daughter as to who can yell louder and longer, and all he can do is grin from ear to ear. 

As the boat draws closer, Sergio lifts Paula off his shoulders, and the moment her feet touch the sand, she runs into the water to jump up and down in the shallow end as she waves vigorously, yelling from the top of her lungs, “Mamiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii! Mamiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!”

Sergio and Mariví follow in her footsteps, feeding off each other’s anxiety and anticipation in these last few never-ending minutes. This truly feels like the longest day of his life. 

“Mamiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!”

“Paula, cariño,” Raquel yells back, and before the small boat has even stopped, Sergio watches in awe as Raquel flings her perfect legs over the side of the boat and jumps into the water, while Paula hurls herself towards her mother.

The moment their hands touch, Raquel lifts her daughter up into a hug. 

The little girl wraps her entire body around Raquel’s torso like a little koala bear, and buries her face in her mother’s chest. 

Raquel buries her own face in her daughter’s hair and her arms wrap tightly around her. She closes her eyes and her body begins to sway gently, as if Paula were a baby and she were putting her to sleep.

Watching them like this, watching his _family_ like this makes Sergio’s heart feel truly full. 

♥

He takes one step towards them, but then stops in his tracks. He is itching to join them, but he is not sure if it is the right thing to do. He does not want to interrupt this sweet, desperate reunion. 

Next to him, Mariví nudges him to go on. 

But this time instead of listening to her, he gives her a smile and instead motions for her to join her daughter and granddaughter. 

Mariví does not need to be told twice, and as Raquel wades towards dry land, Mariví meets her halfway, pulling her daughter and granddaughter into a tight hug. 

The three generations of womanhood embrace for a long time, as Sergio watches from afar. 

It is simply impossible for a heart to feel this full. 

♥

Then there is a clearing of the throat and Sergio turns to the sound. The handler has shut the motor off and is waiting on Sergio.

Sergio pushes his glasses higher and wades to the boat. 

“Did everything go as planned?”

“Yes. There was a small boat jam, which caused the delay, but we lay low and she had the wig and the cap on, so I think we’re good.”

“Thank you, friend,” he says with a smile, gesturing for Raquel’s backpack. 

The fixer passes him Raquel’s backpack, which is approximately the size of Paula. Sergio makes a mental note to evaluate if it is weird that Paula has become a measurement standard in his brain. 

Hanging off the backpack and secured by various straps and mesh pockets is a sleeping mat, a fast-drying towel, a scarf-sarong, two metal water bottles, and a hand sanitizer. 

It is clear that Raquel has been playing the role of a backpacker masterfully well. 

As if he did not already think she was utterly perfect.

He carries the backpack to dry land, glancing over to the women. They are still semi-embracing, and looking at each other.

“Everything good here?” he hears Raquel ask her mother.

“Yes, yes,” Mariví says happily. “You will be safe with Salva, you said, and it is true. He has been wonderful.” 

She looks in his direction and Sergio averts his gaze. 

He pretends it is because he doesn’t want them to think that he is eavesdropping, even though he cannot not hear them, but deep down he knows it is because he worries that his cheeks would go red at the compliment. 

He was just being his old, boring self, and his old, boring self certainly was not wonderful.

Reliable, yes. Resourceful, yes. Congenial, enough. But _wonderful_ …? 

Still, he is glad his personality was enough to make Mariví content. 

“I’m so happy to hear that,” he catches Raquel respond to her mother just before the boat’s engine starts again. He exchanges the hand signal for a job well done with the handler, and the boat drives away. 

His eyes focus on his new family again, the three of them now standing at the water’s edge. 

Raquel is holding Paula’s arm in the air as the girl twirls, her feet splashing in the shallow water. 

“You are so big! I haven’t seen you in three days and you are already taller!”  
Paula giggles. “That’s not true. You cannot grow in just three days.” 

“Well, I think you’re special, so I think you did!”

As the three chatter away, Sergio is loath to interrupt them. 

He feels like he should _want_ to join in, but he does not because simply observing their joy makes him happy. 

Mariví and Raquel laugh in unison as Paula touches her stomach, and he imagines the girl’s stomach has growled yet again because she exclaims, “We’ve been waiting for you to have lunch, mami!”

Mariví interjects, “Paula, why don’t we go set the table so we can finally have lunch.” 

“Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiii,” Paula yells, running past her grandmother to the house. 

The girl’s energy levels might be unparalleled even by Raquel herself.

“I am so happy to see you, cariño,” Mariví says, running a reassuring hand down her daughter’s shoulder and squeezing her hand. “You made the right choice.” 

The two women exchange another embrace and affectionate kisses on the cheek, and then Mariví follows Paula to the house, leaving just the two of them on the beach. 

Raquel turns to him, and their eyes meet for the first time in over a month and time seems to both stop and speed up at the same time. 

They hold each other’s gaze, and his cheeks tell him that he is already grinning from ear to ear.

Her smile is just as wide, and standing by the ocean in her backpacker outfit, she is a vision. She is always going to be a vision to him. 

His cheeks suddenly feel hot, and he senses that familiar tinge of shyness and nervousness whenever his emotions threaten to overwhelm him, but none of that prevents him from walking towards her and crossing the space between them in just a few long strides, never breaking eye contact. 

He stops mere inches from her, instinctively cradling her face between his hands. Beneath his palms, he can feel the heat of her face and the tangles in her hair. 

She is truly here. 

This is not an elaborate daydream. 

She is real.

She places her own hands on his wrists, holding on to him, and her soft, needy touch gives him goosebumps. 

His eyes bore into hers, saying all the things that words cannot even begin to describe, and when he sees her do the same, his heart feels like it might jump out of his chest. 

♥

He has never felt comfortable with prolonged eye contact, but he would live his entire life swimming in these warm, brown orbs. 

“Raquel,” he whispers, and that is all he can say before her lips find his and everything else suddenly melts away. 

His mouth opens for her before she even has to ask permission, and her grip on his wrists tightens when their tongues meet. 

Her passion feels soft and rough at the same time, like a summer rain soothing a winter snowstorm. He will weather any climate as long as he is with her. 

He tilts his head to deepen the kiss, and her hands move to the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. 

His senses delight in the renewed familiarity of her blissfully demanding lips, her hungry tongue, her crafty teeth, and perhaps most of all in the way their noses bump and squish while she tries to devour him. Or while he tries to devour her. 

In moments like these, it’s impossible to tell who is leading and who is following. 

He sucks on her lower lip, and when she gently pulls away, he draws out her retreat as his teeth provide gentle resistance to her bottom lip escaping his mouth. 

He knows she likes that, and he receives yet another confirmation when she gasps, “Sergio, Sergio,” as she catches her breath through a smile.  
The sound of his real name on her lips still feels like a novelty, and it makes his heart soar. If he were to start counting, he has no idea how many pairs of hands he would need to enumerate all the things that have made his heart feel full since Raquel Murillo walked into his life. 

♥

Their eyes still locked, he lets his hands move to her shoulders and then slide along her arms, her usually smooth skin covered in a sheen of crystalized saltwater.

Her fingers intertwine behind his neck. 

His hands glide down the sides of her torso to rest on her hips, while his mouth peppers small kisses along her outstretched, salty arms. The salt is surprisingly enticing, and he licks his lips between every kiss, and when he feels her fingers dig into his neck, he lets his lips become wetter with each kiss. 

His kisses transform from small to open-mouthed in a few instants, and if this is not the best metaphor for how he developed feelings for her, he does not know what is. 

Raquel tasting like a combination of saltwater and herself is suddenly the hottest thing he can think of, and it does not appear to be affecting just him because Raquel takes a step towards him, fully closing the gap between them. 

Every part of her body is now touching every part of his. 

His hands meet at the small of her back, encircling her waist, and it feels so good to finally be this close to her again. To have her in his arms. 

He feels a little embarrassed when he notices that, despite their proximity, his arms are actively pulling her even closer. He lets out a small chuckle.

She responds by playing with the hair at his nape and placing a hot, open-mouthed kiss on his neck. 

He can feel himself grow hard, which means that she can probably feel it too.  
She kisses his neck again, this time sucking gently on his skin, and if he could devour her right then and there, for all that is good and holy, he would. 

Her lips find his again, but instead of kissing him, she moans into his mouth, “Sergio.” 

This time his real name elicits fullness in another part of his body, and his breath hitches in his throat when he realizes that she is doing it on purpose.

Two can play this game.  
His hands slip down to her ass, squeezing it and then he pulls her even closer, to let her know the extent of his reaction to that one word. 

“Looks like someone is ready for some action, _Sergio_ ,” she whispers in his ear. 

“I’ve been ready since the second you left,” he rasps. 

When his mouth finds hers again, she tilts her head, and he loses himself in a kiss so savage that he surprises himself. 

Their mouths separate to catch their breaths, and he rests his forehead on hers, every other part of his body already in contact with a part of hers.

“Maybe we should …” she says, trailing off with a chuckle. 

“Yeah, we probably should…” he replies, masking his disappointment, yet knowing it is the only sensible thing to do. 

Now that the whole family is reunited, they have all the time in the world.

Raquel shifts again, taking a step towards Sergio’s right side, her left hip resting against his right hip, while her left arm encircles his waist. Her cheek leans on his chest, next to her other hand. 

His right arm adjusts to hug her waist and he gives her a small squeeze. 

She chuckles in delight. 

He does not think they’ve ever stood like this before, joined at the hip, and he files this under _new_ in their embrace repertoire. 

Their bodies are half facing each other, half the open sea. She looks out at the vacant horizon, and he follows her gaze. 

This truly is paradise. 

But the difference between paradise with her and paradise without her is life-altering. 

Her right hand reaches for his Adam’s apple, brushing her fingertips over it and scratching gently at his facial hair, just like he likes it. 

Her hand moves across his chest muscles, her fingers imitating nail scratching through his nicest casual shirt, and he likes this too. 

As her hand roams, her movements are followed by a breathy “mmm,” and her explicit approval of his body turns him on even more.

Then, before he his brain can process what is happening, her palm slides down his pelvic region and slips below his waistband. 

She merely brushes her fingertips along his length, but his breath catches. 

“Oh.” 

Her movements are slow and deliberate, as if she is savoring the feel of this first touch, in what has felt like a very long time. 

He is savoring her touch for the exact same reason. 

He finds her eyes, and her pupils are slightly dilated, her lips are parted, and he imagines he must be her mirror image right now because he would have to be dead to not want to take her right here and right now. 

Her fingertips move up and down his shaft, caressing his length. Once. And again.

He feels her middle finger trace gentle circles around his swollen tip, and pretty soon he is not going to be able to breathe. 

Raquel Murillo is the only person in the whole wide world whose simple caress can drive him absolutely wild. 

Then, unexpectedly, her fingers fully envelop him in a tight grip, and she whispers, “I’ve missed you.”

“Joder, Raquel!” He exhales with effort. He swallows, barely managing to get the words out. 

“I was born missing you.”

She lifts her head from his chest and arches an eyebrow at him. “Are you being romantic right now?”

“Maybe,” he says in the best teasing voice he can muster.

They both know she is way out of his league in that department, but he can at least be witty. 

“Are you being horny right now?”

She laughs so genuinely at his remark that he cannot help feeling proud. 

“Maybe,” she says with a wink. “What I’m _definitely_ horny for right now is a shower.”

“You do realize that thanks to you I’m going to have to spend most of lunch in the bathroom until I am in a presentable condition again.” 

She certainly had a knack for always causing him to be in a pickle. But she rarely ever abandoned him in said pickle. 

“Only if you don’t _help_ yourself.”

He can _not_ believe the nerve of this woman. 

“Raquel,” he says as sternly as humanly possible to someone who literally holds him in her hand. “I am _not_ going to be … touching myself in the bathroom while you are all having lunch in the other room.” 

“Oh no?” Raquel asks in mock surprise. Then she shrugs. “I guess we’ll just have to take care of you out here then.”

“Wha—Ra—that is not a goo—” he stutters through various unsuccessful phrases, before letting out a groan, as her grip moves down his length.

She responds with a “mmm” of her own. 

Dios, how he loves hearing her moan.

Her hand moves up and down in a steady rhythm, up and down, up and down, and he tries to focus his eyes on her, but it feels too good, _she_ feels too good to be able to concentrate on anything else than her strong hand around his hard cock.  
She makes it easy for him by breaking eye contact and resting her head back on his chest. 

For a moment he is relieved, but then it becomes harder to breathe, as Raquel runs her thumb over his tip, spreading the pre-cum along his length before gripping him again and pumping, pumping, pumping, pumping. 

Everything about the moment is so arousing, but there is one thing could make it even more arousing.

He steals a glance at her, propped on his chest, eyes closed. 

Only Raquel Murillo can look serene while furiously jerking him off. 

And how does she still have this much stamina after so many flights? 

He is not worthy of the goddess in his arms. 

Certain that she would approve, with his free hand, Sergio pulls back the waistband of his pants, so that he can not only feel her but also _see_ her. 

See them together. 

In natural light. 

He loves the vision of her skin against his. 

Her rhythm is not only palpably sexy, but visually too. 

She is not wearing her rings today, but it is the way that her fingers move in unison that captivates him, like a well-trained sports team inching towards the finish line. 

The knuckles and veins on the back of her hand move with every perfect jerk of her hand. 

This might very well turn out to be his fastest encounter with Raquel, but he does not really care because he knows that she will not care. 

He has never left her unsatisfied and he is certainly not going to start today. Or ever. It would be blasphemy. 

Raquel must have sensed his movement or his excitement because he feels her lift her head from his chest again, and their eyes meet. 

She gestures to the open waistband, biting her lip to suppress a smile, and failing. 

He just smiles in return. 

“I can’t wait for later,” she whispers, and the feel of her exhale on his neck and her words full of promise makes the blood rush to the head of his shaft, and he cannot help but groan again. 

He is getting close. 

His eyes return to her moving hand. He watches his head grow redder from arousal and her hand grow whiter from exertion, and he finds the contrast so unbearably erotic. 

“Keep talking,” he pleads. A little too desperately, perhaps, but she has never denied any of his vocal requests. 

Raquel does not miss a beat, her hand still pumping, pumping. 

“My fantasies,” she whispers, “never measure up to the real you.” 

He loves every register of her voice, but she knows it is the raspy one that he most prefers in bed, and she always knows the right thing to say at the right time. 

His orgasm builds, as her rhythm quickens. 

He sees his tip release more pre-cum, and Raquel lets out a sigh when it slides over her fingers. 

In a smooth motion, she flexes her fingers to capture the warm liquid, using it to coat him again, and then resumes her speedy rhythm. 

This is truly the only porn worth watching. 

“I want to touch myself …” she murmurs, and in that moment, he has never been more certain that she is the only woman for him. 

He feels the pressure in the head start moving inward and down his length. 

Joder! 

He is so, so close.

“Raquel, Raquel!” he gasps, as his lips find hers, groaning loudly into her open mouth

And then he is coming and coming, groaning over and over again into her waiting mouth. 

Her hand is pumping, pumping, her mouth matching each of his groans with her own, as stripes of cum stain his pants. 

He shudders once, as that delicious tingly feeling spreads from his groin to his spine and limbs, and he feels both warm and weak all over. 

He pants, steeling his legs to avoid stumbling from the intensity.

Raquel nuzzles his neck, and his arm pulls her tightly into him, burying his face in her hair. 

He inhales her scent as he works to steady his breathing.

She rocks her hips gently against his, initiating a tiny swaying motion. 

The level of contentment he feels right now is a wholly new emotion. 

His heart is so full.

They remain in each other’s arms, barely swaying at all, for a long time. 

♥

Raquel releases her grip on him gently and extracts her hand from his pants. 

Sergio takes her hand and motions towards the sea. 

They wade into the water up to their knees, and feeling as if it were his duty, he uses both of his hands and saltwater to clean her hand. 

He is meticulous, rubbing between each of her fingers, checking underneath her short nails, and getting the sticky liquid off every part of her hand.

He inspects her hand under the beams of sunlight, and when he is satisfied he sprinkles small kisses across her skilled palm. 

Raquel lets out a contented sigh. 

“I know it hasn’t been that long, but I really missed you. _All_ of you.” 

She smiles. 

He places her palm on his chest, over the heart that beats only for her. 

“And _we_ missed you.” 

Her smile turns into a huge grin, lighting up her entire face. 

“Let’s go have lunch.”

“I’m still going to have to go to the bathroom to clean up,” he reminds her. 

“Is that a complaint?”

He holds her gaze intensely for a moment before giving a small shake of his head, again a sense of shyness finding him. 

Her hand reaches for him, caressing his cheek and pulling him into a languid kiss. 

Her tongue slips into his mouth unhurriedly, and then all of her fingers are running through his hair and the strokes of her hands match her tongue and he feels like the happiest man alive.

He buries his own fingers in her hair but it is a tangled mess because she is a backpacker today and somehow it feels like the funniest thing, and he awkwardly chuckles into their kiss. 

She pulls away, letting out a laugh of her own, trying to shake his fingers out of her hair. 

When it turns out to be easier said than done, she suddenly jumps onto him, wrapping her legs around his waist. 

It is so sudden that he loses his balance and they both fall into the water as one. 

He panics, and then relaxes when he feels the sand floor underneath him and remembers they are still near land. 

He emerges first, inhaling deeply, and when she emerges, of course she looks like a mermaid… even through his blurry glasses and with some of his fingers still tangled in her hair. 

Raquel laughs, as her arms clasp around his neck and she nuzzles his nose.  
“What did you do that for?” he asks. 

“Now I have to go to the bathroom to clean up too,” she responds playfully, and he recognizes this register of her voice too. 

It is not about a quickie in the bathroom, though that can never be ruled out with her. 

This is about not making him feel like the odd one out. This is about making him feel included. 

His heart feels full for the hundredth time today.

Today, the first day of their perfect, new, family life. 

♥♥♥

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ♥ Love any and all thoughts, comments, reviews, feedback, concrit, emojicrit, anything really ♥
> 
> Still deciding in which direction to take this fic, so all feedback is super appreciated. All languages accepted! Serquel knows no borders.
> 
> Thank you for reading! ♡♡♡
> 
> PS You can find me on Twitter at [@SerqueInfinitua](https://twitter.com/SerqueInfinitua)


	2. A Stunning View

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
> ~ Serquel enjoy some alone time ~
> 
>   
> ♡
> 
>   
>  [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/190672350@N04/50497162161/in/dateposted-public/)   
>    
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the kudos and wonderful comments! I was blown away by your incredibly kind words. Every time I got stuck writing this next part, I went back to reread your encouraging messages. They are so motivating ♥  
> 
> 
>   
> Thank you, thank you!  
> 
> 
>   
> (for those who may not have received a notification, I left responses for everyone. Thank you again!)
> 
>   
> I hope you enjoy this one. 
> 
>   
> ♥

♡

Raquel revels in the afternoon heat. Her wet clothes cling to her body, and the sun’s rays feel like a warm furnace against her damp skin.

She steals a sideways glance at Sergio, as they walk up to the house together, hand in hand.

Raquel only allows herself glimpses because she knows that if she looks for too long, she will not be able to control herself. 

He looks a bit ridiculous in his drenched outfit and wet hair, but none of that matters to her. She did not cross oceans and continents solely for his looks. 

Sergio is oblivious to her peeking because his eyes have been focused straight ahead the whole time. 

So she feels a small thrill when she sees him fight a smile. He must be sharing her restlessness.

She looks down at her own soaked self, and while the dark colors of her clothing prevent any transparency, the contours of her hard nipples are on full display. 

A sense of empathy fills her heart, knowing this is no walk in the park for him either. 

She gives his hand a small squeeze, and he returns the gesture. 

She loves him so much. 

♡

“You’re back!” her mother’s voice calls out excitedly. 

“Mami, mami!” Paula runs down the long, wooden steps to meet them.

Her daughter hugs her instantly and then pulls away just as fast. 

“Why are you all wet?”

“I fell into the sea.”

Paula looks at Sergio. “And Salva too?”

He nods sheepishly, readjusting his glasses.

Raquel feels a warmth inside her chest. She wonders if there will ever come a time when she will not find his shyness so endearing. 

As they traverse the remaining steps together, her eyes admire the house before her, its architecture a sight for sore eyes after days of industrial-looking airports and planes. 

At the threshold, her mother motions to Sergio. “Please leave that filthy backpack outside. It needs to be fumigated before I allow it in the house.”

Raquel chuckles, so relieved to have another adult taking care of important but annoying tasks like keeping the house free of pests.

Sergio stops to take off the backpack, and she lets Paula’s hand lead her into the house.

The sepia tones feel like a warm hug as she steps into her new home. 

Her eyes marvel at the high thatched ceiling, the wooden pillars, and the wicker furniture.

It is exactly as she remembers, but it feels different now. 

The feelings of just playing house or wishful thinking are completely gone. 

She sees the long, airy linen curtains that she picked out, and she smiles. 

This is really _it_. This is her life now. 

She loves him so much. 

♡

She feels someone brush her arm, and she blinks, turning her attention back to the people around her. 

“I left a change of clothes on your bed, cariño,” Mariví says. 

Raquel can feel atoms of love radiating from her mother, and she feels a compulsive need to hug her.

“Gracias, mamá,” she says, crossing the space between them and pulling her into a wet embrace. 

Life was too short to not hug those she loved the most.

“I am so happy you’re home.”

“Me too, mamá, me too.”

She lets her head rest on her mother’s shoulder, and suddenly she feels so, so tired.

“There … there ...” She feels her mother tap her back reassuringly. “You will feel better once you eat.”

She smiles. Her mother thinks everything is instantly better after a warm, home-cooked meal, and Raquel is at the age where she no longer disagrees.

She takes a deep breath, releasing her mother, and her eyes search for Paula.

She finds her daughter in Sergio’s arms, playing with his wet hair, but very much deep in thought. 

She can tell from his face that he is feeling awkward, but he makes no attempt to interrupt Paula’s endeavor, his eyes looking out to the horizon, giving her and her mother privacy. The sight moves Raquel to the inner depths of her soul. 

From the corner of her eye, she sees her mother fidget next to her, and when she turns to look at her, Mariví is discreetly pointing a phone camera at Sergio and Paula. 

Mariví had progressed to complementing her post-it reminders with digital photos, and if there is any way to make lemonade out of her mother’s Alzheimer’s, it is the abundance of candid family moments that will be recorded in their photo albums. This is a good thing. For all of them. 

Sergio has noticed them staring, and he clears his throat, likely to chase away the increasing awkwardness he must be feeling. The sound does not phase her daughter, who continues to run her small fingers through his wet locks. 

Her mother saves him further discomfort by announcing, “Okay, time for you two to clean up and change, while Paula and I tend to the food.”

It is the mention of food that distracts Paula, who suddenly squirms in Sergio’s arms, and he puts her back down. 

“You two have thirty minutes,” her mother says, “… forty at the _most_.” 

She ends her statement with a warning look. 

Raquel feels like she is fifteen years old again and a boy has come to visit her at home. It evokes memories of a rebellious adolescence and while a part of her wants to give her mother a cheeky retort, the nostalgia is heartwarming, and the comical embarrassment in Sergio’s avoidant eyes convinces her to bite her tongue. 

“Hurry up, mami, I’m hungry,” Paula says.

“We’ll do our best, cariño,” she promises, opening her arms.

Paula leaps into her embrace, this time not minding all the wetness.

Raquel holds her daughter close, and Paula clings to her in return. 

“I missed you,” Paula whispers, tightening her arms around Raquel’s waist. 

Raquel cannot even imagine how hard all of this must have been for her little girl, and she feels that familiar maternal guilt for putting her daughter through something that she wonders if she could have avoided. 

“Mami is home now,” she says, stroking her daughter’s hair and wishing she had a better response.

The word _home_ appears to have shifted meaning for all three of them because Paula does not question why she is calling this new place home. 

For Raquel, home is always going to be where her family is. 

Paula’s stomach growls, and they both look at each other before bursting into laughter.

“Paula, cariño, let’s get you a snack while they get ready,” Mariví says.

“Gracias, mamá,” Raquel says, feeling relieved that her daughter will not starve while she waits for them.  
“Carrots?” Paula asks hopefully, turning to Mariví.

“Carrots _and_ a surprise.”

Paula’s eyes grow wide, and she reaches for Mariví’s hand, tugging her to the kitchen. 

Raquel smiles. Paula’s belly was clearly the boss of her right now.

Then, unexpectedly, Paula turns around and says one word, clearly meant for Sergio, “Gracias.”

Raquel watches in awe as Sergio’s whole face lights up and a big grin slowly spreads across his features. There is not a single hint of awkwardness now. 

“De nada,” he replies, as Paula and Mariví disappear into the other part of the house. 

Raquel remains still, wanting him to soak up the entirety of this beautiful moment. 

Maybe in a few years’ time the two of them will look at the photo and remember it as one of their first father-daughter moments. Because that is already what she sees.

She loves him so much. 

♡

Still grinning, Sergio looks at his watch and then at her. “We should hurry.”

She nods, taking his outstretched hand as they head to their bedroom. 

“So Paula has taken a particular liking to you in my absence.”

He shrugs. “She asked to touch my hair.”

“And you just love it when children touch your hair …?”  
“I felt no need to say no,” he responds simply. “And it was a good science lesson.”

“Science?”

“She wanted to know if my wet hair felt the same as hers and yours.”

Raquel cannot help but feel a little bit speechless. If Paula were not hers, she might not have the patience for her curiosity. 

She is thankful that Paula’s inquisitiveness appears to align with Sergio’s systematic outlook on life, and she hopes that he does not tire of it. 

“And Paula is not _a_ child, Raquel. She is _your_ child.”

His words make her smile. 

“You have all the right answers, don’t you?”

“Don’t get used to it,” he says earnestly. “The idea of raising her without you has been …”

His voice trails off after that chilling statement, just as they step into the bedroom.

She takes the moment to look up at him, but he is staring at her breasts. 

“… absolutely terrifying,” he whispers.

The ability of his brain to compartmentalize his feelings to such a degree that his words and his eyes can be on two, almost opposing, emotional planes is so unusual to Raquel that she finds it both disconcerting and endearing at the same time. 

“Good thing I made it then,” she says. Her words come out almost flippantly, which is not how she means them at all. 

She strokes the nape of his neck to get his attention, and his eyes slowly shift upwards to find hers.

“We are all together now,” she says in a purposefully soft tone.

She searches his dark eyes, hoping that her own are conveying the reassurance that she feels in her heart. 

“Finally,” he says. His voice is soft, but his facial expression remains impassive. 

The wait between Paula’s and her own arrival to Palawan has not been long in real time, but when you are afraid, seconds feel like hours, and hours feel like days. She knows that better than anyone. 

And so, she lets her fingers do the reassuring. Her thumbs caress his neck, playing with his facial hair. 

“I’m here now,” she whispers. “I’m here now.”

His eyelids close slowly. He lets out a relieved sigh, and his features finally relax. 

She lifts herself up to her tiptoes, brushing her lips against his.

He nuzzles his nose against hers in response, eliciting a chuckle when his beard tickles her cheek. 

But when she attempts to deepen the kiss, his mouth remains firmly closed.

She groans in frustration, letting her heels find the floor again. 

She is surprised at how deeply disappointed she feels. She is not used to being rejected by him. 

She does not like it.

His fingers trace her jaw and she leans into the comforting touch. She so desperately wants to be touched by him.

“You know I want to, Raquel, but your _mother_ and _daughter_ have been waiting on you to eat for …” He looks at his watch. “… for over an hour now.”

She mentally rolls her eyes at the words that he emphasizes. As if she were not painfully aware of who else was currently in this house waiting for them to reappear in half an hour. 

“And _you_ haven’t been waiting on me to _eat_?” she replies, raising an eyebrow at him. 

She is amused by her own double entendre, but the feeling is incomparable to the gratification she feels at seeing him get all flustered. 

“Raquel, por favor!” He is so exasperated, and it only makes her want to tease him more.

“Por favor what?” she says innocently, stepping further into his personal space.

“Por favor, if we are not at lunch in presentable shape in thirty-nine minutes, I will not be able to look your mother in the eye.”

She responds with a pout but reluctantly allows him to nudge her towards their en-suite bathroom. 

When she enters the spacious room, she feels the same awe as she did when they first came to look at this house. With a bathtub on one end, a long shower on the other end, two sinks in the middle, and still ample counter and cabinet space, it is far bigger than her childhood bedroom. 

The shower’s outside window wall faces dense shrubbery, while still allowing plenty of natural light to enter. Functional strip windows beneath the thatched roof permit the warm afternoon air to trickle inside. Had the bedroom view not sold her on this house, the bathroom most certainly would have. 

Her eyes revel in the enchanting blend of traditional and contemporary design. The earthy details and color scheme fit perfectly with the overall décor of their nipa-hut-inspired house. 

She notices that the bathtub’s window wall, facing the palm trees behind the house, is now covered with a mobile bamboo screen, and she is grateful to Sergio’s attention to detail. After all, this is a family house now, with three generations under one roof. 

A part of Raquel struggles to comprehend the level of filthy rich and entitled you had to be to install this debauched haven inside a modern gazebo-style house, but that is a contradiction she is happy to grapple with another day. Besides, Sergio is filthy rich now too. That is certainly going to take some getting used to. 

He closes the door behind them, and when he turns to face her, her arms instinctively reach for him.

He takes a small step back, catching her hands in his. 

“Raquel,” he says softly. “I am serious. You are not allowed to touch me.”

“I just got here and you’re already giving me impossible orders?”

His lips turn slightly upward at the word _impossible_.

“You know why,” he responds firmly, but she can see the amusement on his face rebelling against his exasperation. 

She is in the same boat because she finds it both adorable and frustrating to watch him fight off her desire in order to do the _right thing_ , when she damn well knows he wants her as much as she wants him.

“So I can’t even touch you like this?” she asks, giving him small, playful taps across the wet shirt stuck to his chest.

“Raquel, stop it,” he sighs, but she ignores his words, doing it over and over again, until he finally pulls her body into him, his long arms enveloping her. 

With no space between them, her hands are forced to still against his chest, and he draws her lips in for a kiss. 

She relaxes into the embrace and kisses him back eagerly, her tongue teasing at his lips, her whole body jubilant at her win. 

She is delighted when she feels his fingers on her hips, moving across her exposed skin, until he is gripping the edges of her top, pulling the garment upwards, breaking the kiss to undress her.

The moment his lips leave hers, she groans in frustration. 

She crosses her arms against her chest, eying him critically. 

“So I can’t touch _you_ , but _you_ can take _my_ clothes off.”

She is not sure if he has heard her because he is staring at her chest, and she sees him swallow. 

She looks down at herself, her crossed arms giving her breasts a bit of a lift, her nipples still hard, and she has to admit that they look good.

Raquel looks back up at him and just lets him look at her. 

She enjoys watching him watch her. He never makes her feel anything less than absolutely ravishing. 

When his brain starts working again, his eyes find hers again. She half expects to see some shyness at being caught observing her so blatantly, but this time gaze is just intense and full of desire, and it just foments her own passion for him. 

Are they ever going to make it to lunch today? 

He clears his throat. “It’s your mother who made the rules, not me.”

She laughs to dispel some of the potency of her own craving, reaching in for another kiss. But a light, playful one this time. 

If he was going to play hard to get, she was not going to be the one to chase him. At least not before sundown. 

“So I take it you’re not going to help me?” he asks, gesturing at her clothing.

She shrugs. “It’s your mission, not mine.” 

He just shakes his head at her in mock disapproval. 

She has missed how lighthearted they can be together. So many things in her life have felt so, so heavy, and he has certainly made everything all the more complicated, but at the same time everything feels easier with him. 

Her repeated analyses of their relationship are confusing and complex because their lives are so disparate and chaotic, but the levity that he gives her without even trying feels worth a million messes. 

She loves him so much. 

♡

She feels his fingers undo the button of her convertible hiking shorts, and he pushes the waistband down. They are loose-fitting, and they easily fall to the floor. 

She is purposefully wearing black panties because she knows he likes that color, though he has never told her why, and she wonders when she might find out.

She sees him swallow again, and she rewards him with a kiss on the cheek. 

He gives her a genuine smile, apparently grateful that she has agreed to join his mission. 

But contrary to what she expects him to do next, he puts his hands on her shoulders, prompting her to turn around so they are both facing the shower. 

He nudges her forward, and she steps out of the shorts around her feet and walks towards the shower.

As they pause in front of the shower door, he hooks his thumbs around the waistband of her panties, and pulls them down until they can free fall to the floor. 

Still behind her, she feels him press a chaste kiss on her shoulder. 

He slides the shower door open and snakes his long arm around her to turn the faucet on, checking the water’s temperature.

She cannot wait to get three days’ worth of grime off her skin, and she steps inside eagerly.

To her surprise, he slides the shower door closed behind her, leaving himself on the other side of it. 

Disappointed, she turns to face him through the top strip of clear glass on the left shower door, while frosted glass conceals anything below her neck. 

She gives him a pout. 

He just smiles in response. “I’ll be back.” 

Sergio turns on his heel and strides off in his wet clothes. 

He is such a curious creature. 

She is easily distracted by the heavenly feeling of the water on her skin, as she tilts her head up towards the source of water, standing directly under the gloriously large shower head. 

She does not remember the shower itself being this fancy when they visited the house, but they had seen so many that they started to all blur together. 

The sound and feel of the water suddenly remind her that she desperately needs to pee. It had been a long trip to the island, but she has been too distracted by the excitement of the day and all the moments that warmed her heart. She pauses momentarily, debating whether this shower was just too beautiful and immaculate to pee in, but her bladder completely disagrees. 

When she finally allows her pelvic floor muscles to relax, the sense of relief is immediate and so, so satisfying. And she is helping the planet, so it must be fine. 

She pads slowly around her own axis, letting the water reach every square inch of her face, of her neck, of her torso, and of her limbs. The water feels like a breath of fresh air on her skin and she never wants to leave. 

The anti-slip tiles beneath her feet have a soft grip surface, and her feet are so tired that the tiles feel like a gentle massage. 

She spends a long time letting the water just fall, soaking her skin and soaking her hair. The water pressure of this shower is truly blissful. 

Facing the stream of water again, she reaches for the soap, and is pleasantly surprised when she notices it is her favorite kind, next to her favorite shampoo set, all handmade made by an old herbalist in the Pyrenees. She has no idea how he has gotten his hands on them all the way from here, but she is deeply moved by the gesture. 

She loves him so much. 

♡

Her hands make the soap foam, and she almost feels herself dissolve when she finally gets to scrub her face under this perfect stream of water. 

It feels like standing under a waterfall, and she cannot tell if that is an exaggeration or not, but she does not care. No wonder waterfalls have been considered special since the dawn of time. They are far more than just pretty landscape. 

Out of habit, she turns the faucet off to soap the rest of her body up, and instantly misses the glorious feeling of the warm water against her skin. She reaches to turn the faucet on again, but decides against it. She has spent her entire life confining her and her family’s showers to the amount of water in the bathroom’s water heater for nine months out of the year. Just because she is living with a billionaire now does not mean she is going to change who she is. Besides, she is supposed to be doing her part to try and save the planet for her grandchildren. 

She makes the soap foam again, lathering her neck and her chest, and then sliding the soap slowly across one arm and then the other. 

When her fingers slide across her armpits, the short prickly hairs remind her that she has not shaved in days. 

She scans the shower rack in case there is an extra razor lying around, and she smiles when a pink razor catches her eye. 

Sergio knows how she feels about the _pink it and shrink it_ scam, but in this very moment, the pink razor is a symbol of him preparing for her arrival to the tiniest of details, of him doing everything he could to make her first few days here as smooth as possible, and it warms her heart. 

She loves him so much.

♡

Turning the faucet to a drip setting, Raquel runs the razor under the water. She rubs the soap between her palms again before applying the foam to one armpit and shaving carefully. She repeats the motion on the other side. 

Rinsing the razor, she puts it back on the rack. 

As she reaches for the bar of shampoo, she hears the shower door slide open.

She turns to see a naked Sergio standing before her. 

“So you decided to join me after all?” 

“You say it as if it is a choice.”

“You could use the bath if you want _choice_.”

They stare each other down, neither willing to throw in the towel in their verbal sparring.

She briefly wonders if he is going to take her up on her suggestion. Her utterly reckless suggestion.

Holding his gaze firmly, she takes a small step towards the window wall, beckoning him inside. 

When he finally moves forward to join her, inwardly she sighs with relief. Showering separately at the same time in the same bathroom would have made her feel ... 

She does not want to dwell on how it would make her feel. 

Instead, she lets her eyes drift down his beautiful body, bathed by the afternoon sun. She notices every line and scar that her fingertips had traced during her first week in Palawan, when they had not left his bed for days on end. 

His body is not perfect, but it is perfect to her. 

Without a word, he has closed the shower door, his body finally at her side, looming large over her. Their size difference is always most obvious to her in confined spaces, and it makes her feel safe and protected in his presence. 

She loves him so much.

♡

Before she can reach for him, his fingertips nudge her shoulder, gesturing for her to turn her back to him. 

She would prefer to look at him, but his confidence tells her that he has a plan, so she decides to follow his instructions. She likes it when he has a plan. 

He kisses her shoulder, reaching around her to turn the faucet on, as a delightful stream of water envelops her body again. 

It only lasts a few moments as he turns the faucet handle again, leaving it at a gentle drip. 

He picks up the bar of shampoo from the rack.

Is he really going to do it?

She feels the contact of her wet tresses disappear from her upper back, and the sound he generates tells her he is rubbing the shampoo bar against the ends of her hair to work up a lather.

He slides the foam across the top of her head, and she tilts her head back a little to give him better access. From this new angle, she can see a small smile play on his lips, and she cannot help but smile herself. He is liking this. 

He works the bar in small circular motions from the hairline at her forehead all the way down to the base of her neck. 

His hands are clumsy because it is not the easiest angle, and when he returns to her hairline again, she notices a slight tremble in his fingers.

She just wants to turn around and smother him in kisses for being the sweetest man on the planet.

She loves him so much.

♡

His movements may be a little awkward, but they are methodical and by the time he reaches the hairline along her ear, foam is flowing freely and the quiver in his hand is gone. 

She can sense his growing confidence, as he moves to apply the shampoo to her hair on the other side, the gentle drip of the water continuously facilitating the task. 

Raquel is itching to touch him, but it would be unfair to distract him now. It is clear that he has never done this before because a hint of clumsiness remains, but he is careful and gentle, and the intention of his act overshadows any defect in execution.

He returns the shampoo bar to the rack and buries his fingers into her hair, massaging her scalp. He starts at the base of her neck, his fingertips working in perfect symmetry. 

“Harder, please,” she asks without thinking, but chuckling to herself when she realizes her inadvertent innuendo. 

Sergio ignores her insinuation but obliges instantly, increasing the pressure of his fingertips. Now it truly feels like heaven.

She groans in pleasure, and he responds with a jovial hum. 

He is methodical in this little massage too, moving his way upward and around her head.

The knots in her hair do not make it easy and she hears him murmur in frustration here and there, but he stays the course, sidestepping the tangles and the beauty mark above her left ear as delicately as possible, until he has massaged every square inch of her head. 

When his fingertips release her scalp, she stops tilting her head, as his palms slide from the top to the ends of her hair in repetitive motions.

She turns the faucet, letting the water fall freely against her again as his fingers work to rinse out the shampoo, avoiding the knots along the way. 

She turns the faucet to a gentle drip again, ready for conditioning, so she is surprised when he picks up the shampoo bar again.

She turns to him unable to hide her curiosity. “Again?” 

“Is this not how they do it at salons?” he asks, adding quickly, “Unless you don’t want me to?” 

“I just thought we didn’t have enough time,” she says, biting her lower lip to contain a grin. 

He responds with a playful roll of the eyes, but there is an earnestness in his voice. “Your hair has been through a lot.” 

They both know he is not talking about her hair, but sometimes it is easier to talk in metaphors.

He nudges her to turn her head back, and he applies the shampoo. He is equally methodical as before, but it always lathers more easily the second time around, and his movements are smoother, nimbler this time. 

He notices the difference too because he hums. It is more than a brief murmur this time. It is a melody. 

She listens intently, and as his fingertips slide to massage her scalp again, she recognizes the tune as “The Entertainer.” 

Is this real? 

Or is she still stuck in a godforsaken airport, completely delirious?

She is not sure, but her feelings for him are real.

She loves him so much.

♡

Lulled by his soundtrack, Raquel melts into his perfect touch. She loses all concept of time and space until she feels water against her face again, as he rinses out the shampoo. 

She knows she should not think about it, but the combination of his sweet nature and nude body in this decadent shower is getting her excited. Very, very excited.

He appears oblivious to her inner thoughts, as he wets the conditioner bar and turns the faucet off.  
Like he did with the shampoo bar, he runs the conditioner from her hairline to the base of her neck in repetitive motions. Dividing the long strands of hair, he rubs the bar into the tresses he holds in the palm of his hand over and over again before running his fingers through them to check for tangles, and then moving onto another section of hair. 

His dedication to getting her knots out is very appreciated, but she is feeling so aroused right now that her hair is at the bottom of her priority list. Lunch is somewhere in the back of her mind, but very, very far.

She snakes her hand discretely behind her, hoping he will not notice until she makes contact with his skin.

She is delighted when her fingers brush against his soft penis, but her elation is short-lived when she hears his breath hitch, and he moves his body out of her reach.

“Raquel, please,” he implores her. “If you touch me, I–I–I just won’t be able to join you all for lunch,” he concludes simply.

She instantly feels guilty for being so forceful and so impatient. They may be building a new life together, but she is already at home with all the people in this house, and as well as it seems to be going so far, he is not there yet. His relationships with her mother and her daughter are all still very new, and the priority he gives them warms her heart. 

She finds this contradiction ironic. Sergio, essentially a rich, eligible bachelor, is attempting to evade her enticing sexapades, while Raquel, responsible for an aging mother and young daughter, is able to be her carefree sexual self. 

“I’m sorry,” she says earnestly. “If I promise not to touch you, can I at least look at you?”

There is a brief silence as he seems to give her question serious thought. 

“Yes,” he says finally, and she turns halfway towards him, facing the green shrubbery on the other side of the window wall. This gives her a good partial view of him, but still gives him access to her hair. 

She lets her eyes roam his body as he continues applying conditioner to her hair.

Her gaze travels from his dexterous hands across his strong biceps, his well-proportioned chest, and the stunningly flat planes of his abdomen. 

She imagines her fingers tracing the lines of his strong hips and encircling his beautiful penis. She remembers the delicious sensation of sitting on his lap, of grinding her ass along his solid thighs. Her heart beats faster just thinking about it. Her eyes drift down to his agile knees, his lean calves, and his pretty feet. 

If they were to ever have a biological child together, she hopes he passes on his feet and toes. She would be more than happy to pass on her calves and thighs. As for the ass, eyes, and hair, she feels that they are equally matched in those departments. 

Her eyes continue wandering, attempting to find any differences between his body now and that of almost two months ago, but she does not see any. He is just as perfect as she remembers.

Out of the blue there is a kiss on her cheek. 

“I think I got them all. Now we need to wait,” he says.

She places her hand on his shoulder for balance as she leans in and returns the chaste kiss. “Gracias.”

“De nada.” 

She reaches for the soap, and a look of panic crosses his face. 

“Relax,” she says with a little laugh. “You arrived before I finished soaping up.” 

He lets out a sigh of relief.

“Let me,” he says, taking the soap from her fingers.

“Mmm, full service today.”

“It is not every day that someone travels 72 hours to meet with me.”

They both know he is not referring to the hours or the distance, but his little indirect declarations are so him, and they fill her heart.

She loves him so much.

♡

He foams the soap beneath the gentle drip of the water, and then runs his hands across her shoulders and down her back. 

Placing her hand on his shoulder, he lathers her arm and then reaches for the other one. 

She has already washed her arms, but she is not going to rush him. The longer she can have his hands on her, the better. 

She wonders if that statement will ever not be true. Will she ever tire of him?

In this moment, the mere idea feels utterly absurd.

Her arms washed, twice over, she proceeds to lift her leg, resting her foot on the knee-high shower ledge. 

He soaps her thigh, his hands rubbing the foam in with more pressure than appears necessary, but it is turning her on again, so she is not exactly going to complain. 

He crouches down to reach the rest of her leg. 

She wonders if it is a comfortable position for him, but he is more than willing, and she loves having him at her feet. 

His soapy hands slide down her calf … seductively? 

Surely, she cannot be so far gone as to be imagining all this.

He runs the soap across her ankle and down the heel hanging off the ledge. She places her hand on his shoulder for additional balance.

He pays generous attention to her heel and then her whole foot, lathering over and over again, and massaging her foot at the same time. 

She does not need to tell him that her feet need to be scrubbed clean because she has been on her feet almost non-stop for 72 hours. He already knows.

She loves him so much.

♡

He shows the same care to her other foot when her legs switch, and she feels a strong urge to kiss him deeply. But she promised, so she contents herself with kissing her own palm and delivering it to his cheek. 

It makes him look up at her in surprise, and she smiles at him. 

Her fingers caress his bearded chin, brushing lightly along his mouth. 

“Tonight,” he whispers, his lips kissing her fingertips. 

She gives him a little nod, and his focus returns to her leg, soaping up her ankle and calf, and then traveling over the knee and along her thigh.

He places his hand on the ledge to push himself to standing position again, and she offers her own hand as well. 

She is happy that he accepts her help, and then he is looming over her again. 

She reaches up on her tiptoes, and kisses him on the cheek. 

It is one of the few signs of affection that seem to be allowed, and if that is the only way she is able to demonstrate the combination of passion and tenderness that is threatening to burst out of her, then so be it.

He murmurs good-naturedly and picks up the soap again, nudging for her to turn away from him again. She feels a tinge of disappointment, but she complies. 

He steps closer this time, and she can feel his entire body pressed against the back of hers. 

_This._ This is what she has been wanting all along. 

A happy moan escapes her lips.

“Please don’t touch me,” he reminds her.

She digs her nails into her own palms for a moment, and then she releases them. She looks up at him, and places a kiss on his jaw.

He hums in response.

“I am not going to let you sleep a wink tonight,” she informs him.

“Assuming I survive until tonight.”

She elbows him playfully. “At least you would die happy.”

“You are not wrong.” 

He places a kiss on her collarbone before proceeding to first lather one clavicle and then the other. 

He lets his palm glide across her neckline, his movements slow and deliberate, and she wonders if she is imagining it again. 

He avoids her breasts, instead running his hands down each of her sides. His fingers meet on her abdomen, moving in big, messy circles. He pays particular attention to her navel, gently cleaning and rinsing the little depression in the skin. 

He foams the soap again, surprising her when his fingertips slide below her abdomen to the tufts of hair between her legs. 

He gently lathers the hair protecting her center, gradually drifting downward.

She widens her stance to more easily accommodate his large hand, which moves lower, spreading the foam along her outer lips. 

He is even gentler when his fingers slip between her inner layers. 

The signs of her arousal are quite apparent, but he continues his ministrations as if he has not noticed. 

He traces her entrance unhurriedly, careful to restrict the soapsuds to her external skin. 

His touch drifts up her lips again, reaching her pleasure center.

Her whole body heats up when his fingertips draw halos around her clitoris, and a small moan escapes her lips. 

He concludes his little adventure by cupping her vulva, and then sliding his hand upward again. 

Not only has his soapy exploration of her nether regions left her incredibly turned on, but now there is a giant neon sign in her head, blinking in large, pink letters.

_SERGIO = PERFECTO_

_SERGIO = PERFECTO_

_SERGIO = PERFECTO_

She loves him so much.

♡

He foams the soap yet again, and putting it aside, his hands find her chest, this time roaming freely across her breasts. 

His touch is purposefully languid, and she is finally certain that this is not just about lathering her anymore. 

His palms rub her breasts at exactly the right pressure, and she moans, more boldly this time. 

There are other ways to show her appreciation for him that do not include touching him. 

And then his fingers are squeezing and kneading and molding, further kindling the fire inside her. 

When his fingers flick her nipple, she jerks involuntarily, her ass pushing into him. 

He gasps in surprise, and there is a brief silence as she inhales deeply. 

His length is pressed between their bodies, and she can feel it against her lower back, already half hard. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers against her ear, as his hands continue to stroke her breasts sensually. “I couldn’t resist.”

She hums loudly in pleasure and reassurance. 

Sergio is the only man she has ever known who makes those three words feel like a declaration of love. He exercises such high levels of self-control on a daily basis that for him, admitting to losing control is a revelation of deep feelings. 

And maybe one day he will actually tell her again. When he is not in chains, attached to a lie detector test. 

But for the time being, she files _I couldn’t resist_ into her forever folder, seared into her memory like a tattoo. 

She never wants to forget how he is making her feel right this moment. So desired and so wanted, and at the same time so cared for and so protected. 

Navigating a male-dominated workplace her whole adult life meant that, as a woman, she has always felt fairly fuckable. 

But she has never felt so adored and so cherished as she feels when she is with Sergio.

She loves him so much.

♡

Before Raquel can decide whether to maintain her promise to not touch him or to throw caution to the wind, his hands still. 

He shifts his body to face her side, and she instantly feels the loss of contact against her back.

His hand slides over her shoulder, down her whole back and across her left ass cheek.

“Seems I forgot to tend to this piece of …” he says playfully, and instead of the word she expects, he ends with, “… art.”

She chuckles, sticking her ass out just a little bit.

And then he is massaging her glutes, and his strong hand on her ass is what all her fantasies are made of, and she never wants him to stop. 

He briefly pauses to soap his hands yet again under the gentle drip of the water.

His fingers slide across her ass cheek again, and then slowly slip _between_ her buttocks. _That_ she did not expect. 

His fingers slide up and down that hidden space, rubbing soap into the skin in random shapes, but just as methodically as anything that he does. 

It feels similar to when she washes herself, but it also feels different. It feels oddly … nice. 

“Thorough indeed,” she says absentmindedly.

Her tone must have lacked the humor of her thoughts because his hand stills instantly. “Do you want me to stop?” 

“Not at all. Very practical.”

He still does not move. 

“And I like it,” she reassures him. “Very much.” 

“You do?” 

To demonstrate her approval, she pushes her ass just a little more towards him. This causes an unexpected flash of delicious friction, and she fails to stifle a loud groan.

“Raquel!” he reproaches, but it is followed by a moan of his own. 

His length feels fully erect as it nudges at her side, and she wonders if there is any more point in pretending that they can control their craving for each other. 

He seems to have other plans because he turns the faucet on, as another stream of warm water reaches her skin.

Sergio begins to rinse the soap suds off her, starting with her vulva, cupping and splashing water against her center to ensure a thorough rinse, washing her wetness away in the process. She feels a twinge of disappointment, but he is being so attentive that she does not have the heart to hold it against him. 

With his other hand, he rinses her ass, his palms and fingers sliding along every visible and hidden surface of her cheeks.

He keeps one hand designated to her front, and the other to her back, so there is no possibility of cross-contamination and this level of attentiveness completely disarms her. 

The neon sign in her brain becomes an obnoxiously psychedelic GIF, flashing in every color of the rainbow.

_SERGIO = PERFECTO._

_SERGIO = PERFECTO._

_SERGIO = PERFECTO._

She loves him so much. 

♡

He foams the soap again, this time washing his own hands meticulously and rinsing. 

She joins her hands to his, and he likes that because he places another kiss on her shoulder before running the soap across her palms and putting the soap away.

He glides his fingers between hers, and it is all so sensually comforting that she leans her shoulder gently against his chest, sighing happily. 

He slides his palm down her hair to rinse the conditioner out. His fingers comb through her strands, checking for tangles, but there appear to be none. His pedantic work has paid off. 

He brushes his fingers down her arm, gliding along the rest of her body in gentle, reassuring motions, ensuring that all the soap is gone. 

As much as she longs to jump him and ride him until dawn, she feels compelled to mark her appreciation for the way that he cares for her. 

Turning the faucet off, she turns fully towards him, reaching her hands up to cup his face. 

She slides her palm along his forehead, swiping the wet hair away from his eyes.

When his gaze locks with hers, he gives her a small smile. 

She reaches up on her tiptoes to give him a kiss on his left cheek. Then she does the same to his right cheek. She finds his gaze again and gives him a little nod before placing another kiss on the tip of his nose. 

To complete her little thank you, she presses her lips against his with undemanding tenderness.

They are both still for a moment, and then she pulls back, her heels finding the floor again. 

Unexpectedly, he leans down and captures her lips in an enthusiastic kiss, in stark contrast to her tender one, as his arms wrap around her waist. 

His hard length presses against her stomach, and his desire for her makes her feel dizzy.

His tongue traces her upper lip before slipping into her mouth. 

She revels in the familiar feel of his beard against her face. She has missed his proximity so much.

She moans into the kiss, and he responds in kind. Their tongues play with each other, and she groans again, and so does he, and then so does she, until she cannot tell where his sounds end and hers begin. 

His hands drift lower to squeeze her ass, and she moans even more loudly this time. The memory of his fingers in that hidden place only turns her on more, and she shakes her ass a little.

He gets the hint because she can feel one hand tentatively inch across her ass cheek towards the crevice between.

When his finger makes contact with the sensitive skin around her hole, she responds with her mouth energetically sucking on his tongue. It seems to encourage him, because a few more fingers join the fun, and then he is moving in large circular motions around her anus and the pressure feels even better than before. 

She is shocked at just how horny this is making her. 

How has she not tried this before? 

She sucks on his tongue again, moaning loudly, as much for his benefit as her own.

She breaks the kiss because she already needs to catch her breath, and he takes the opportunity to step to the side, shifting his body to face her side instead of her front. 

The movement confuses her momentarily before she realizes it is about facilitating access to another part of her body when his other hand slowly slips down her abdomen.

“I think I missed another spot,” he whispers in her ear. “May I?”

“Please.” 

She is too turned on to be witty right now. 

His nails scrape down the tufts of her hair, before his fingertips gently slip inside her folds with the intention of pleasuring her for the first time in over a month. 

She is already fairly wet again. She lets out a happy sigh, as she widens her stance for him. 

He groans loudly in approval, reminding her just how much she has missed his unabashed sounds of satisfaction. 

She loves him so much. 

♡

He slides his fingers along her inner labia in long, languid strokes, the friction increasing with each loving touch.

But she wants more, she needs more. 

When his touch approaches her clitoris again, she thrusts her hips into his hand.

He lets out a small chuckle, as he turns his attention to the center of her pleasure. His fingertips move in small circles, testing different pressure levels.

When he finds the level that suits her best today, she rasps, “Like that.” 

His fingers oblige instantly, rubbing small halos around the sensitive nub, while his other hand continues its round motions on the other side of her body. 

It is completely new to be feeling such enjoyable friction against both sides of her most sensitive parts, and she really, really likes it. 

She tries to find a word to describe it. 

It feels … exquisite. 

His fingers are not only dexterous, but also well-coordinated, and he finds a steady rhythm of both hands working in tandem. The enhanced experience is utterly delicious, and she adds the feel of her wet tongue against her own lips. 

His mouth drops to her shoulder, first biting gently and then harder, as she feels him rock almost imperceptibly against her hip.

She cannot tell if it is conscious or involuntary, but she likes it. Really likes it. 

She feels another small thrust, and it cannot be an accident anymore. She wants more. 

“More, Sergio, more,” she groans.

“Of what?” 

“Every single thing that you are doing right now.” 

“Yeah?” he asks, puncturing his question with a stronger thrust.

“Fuck yeah.”

And it is like someone flipped a synchronicity switch. His thrusts align with his hands, and she feels so many new sensations at once, finally, finally threatening to overwhelm her. 

She lets her eyes close, his name on her lips.

“Sergio, Sergio.”

“Raquel,” he rasps in her ear, his breath staggering, much like her own.

She lets her forehead rest on his shoulder, and he rests his cheek against her head. 

The simple intimacy of the position fills her heart and turns her on even more.

She loves him so much. 

♡

His coordinated ministrations speed up, at a pace that by now he knows that she enjoys, and she can feel her orgasm take root in the distance. 

Her right arm snakes around his waist, her palm resting on his ass cheek. 

She places her other palm on his erection, and he groans loudly into her hair.

She is really turned on by him rocking against her at this angle, so instead of wrapping her fingers around him, she cups her palm, letting her fingertips rest against her own hip. 

Confining his gorgeous cock between her hip and her hand, she creates another surface of friction for him. 

He loves it because he moans even more loudly this time, as his thrusts speed up.

“Dios, Raquel.”

Being the source of such unadulterated pleasure in him is one of her favorite feelings. 

She lets the tip of her tongue flick his shoulder, and then she clamps her lips against his skin, sucking hard.

He nuzzles her temple, burying his face in her hair, and then he shifts and she can feel his hot, panting breath on her skin, and then his mouth is sucking, sucking, sucking at her ear, his fingertips bewitching her senses, and she feels the waves of pleasure coming closer. 

“Yes … Sergio … so, so good,” she groans against his skin, squeezing his ass.

She revels in being able to touch him, in being this close to him again. 

“Please … yes, there, there,” she pants between moans. 

He grunts deeply, his thrusts now frantic, and that is always a sign that he is close too.

“Sergio … Sergio …”

She relishes in the sensations of his dedicated fingers against her sensitive skin, his hot mouth lavishing her ear with his tongue, and the delicious friction of his erection against her hip and palm. 

None of her holes are being filled, and yet the combination is so, so satisfying. 

“Yes, almost there,” she rasps.

She arches her back out of habit, and his fingers move just a little bit faster, as he groans her name.

“Raquel … Raquel … Raquel …” 

She finally feels one wave of pleasure hit her, and then another, and another.

“Yes, yes,” she begs, biting and digging her nails into his skin.

His ministrations never stop, as ripples of unadulterated physical satisfaction radiate through her entire body.

She sees stars and her knees feel so, so weak. 

She rests her forehead on his shoulder again, reveling in the feeling of this deliciously intense orgasm. It has been far too long.

She loves him so much. 

♡

She realizes that he has stopped thrusting, and she looks up at him.

His gaze is fixed on her, a silly smile on his lips, and he looks almost inebriated. 

“Now _you_ come for _me_ ,” she tells him, letting her fingers wrap tightly around his hard length.

At that, she feels his whole body shudder awake, and his hand slides across her lower back to grasp at her waist for better leverage. 

She pumps him once, twice, and then he is thrusting, thrusting, thrusting. 

She keeps her grip firm, as she peppers small kisses across his chest. 

His repeated thrusts are accompanied by groans and grunts and she feels herself getting turned on all over again. 

His other hand remains between her legs and even if his fingers are still against her clitoris, the rocking motion of their bodies creates a gentle friction that sends tingles of pleasure up her spine. 

She digs her nails into his ass again. 

“I’ve missed you so much,” she whispers. 

She has already said it at the beach, but once is not enough to describe just how empty her days felt without him in them. 

“Not as much as I’ve missed you,” he moans in her ear.

Her heart fills with warmth, and she clutches his cock like her life depends on it, her mouth nibbling on his chest. 

“Dios, Raquel …”

His thrusts are frantic now, and she uses all her strength to steady her grip, as she lets her mouth suck on his skin.

“Raquel … Dios … Raquel …” he pants.

And then he is coming, letting out one strangled moan after another. 

The white liquid spills across her stomach in hot bursts, and she lifts her head to look at him. 

She revels in watching him while he comes. 

It never fails to turn her on, no matter how many times she has already come. 

His eyes flutter open, and he meets her gaze. 

“Wow.”

The single word makes her feel so warm inside that she cannot help but smile. 

Sergio is not only a generous lover, but a grateful one too. It is the most perfect combination. 

She loves him so much. 

♡

Raquel nuzzles his scratchy chin, humming happily.

He nudges her to turn away from him yet again, and he turns the faucet to the spray setting, as his whole body envelops hers from behind. She would prefer to be able to see him, but she loves the way this embrace feels. 

He soaps his hands, washing them first, and then lathering her stomach thoroughly, cleaning his bodily liquid off her.

Her palms rest on his hands on her abdomen, and he takes the opportunity to run the soap suds along her fingers, washing her hands in the process.

His thoughtfulness is out of this world. 

He returns the soap to the rack and turns the water off.

His hands find her stomach again, and leaning into him feels like the most natural response. 

Her fingers trail up his forearms, embracing him in return. 

“You are amazing,” he whispers.

Raquel feels a rush of elation at his words. 

Sergio is not one for empty compliments, or many compliments for that matter, so when he feels moved to share his inner thoughts, it means all the more to her.

He places a kiss at her temple, and then one on her cheekbone, and another, and another until he covers her face in affectionate, endearing kisses.

She is so distracted that she does not notice his hand move until his fingertip is on her clit, rubbing up and down lazily.

He lets out a little groan of surprised pleasure when his fingers slip a little. She is still quite wet.

“That is what you do to me,” she whispers.

He grunts in response, his teeth grazing her ear. “Tonight.”

The promise awakens butterflies in her lower abdomen again. 

“Unless you would like another preview?” he asks, his fingers moving in circular motions now. 

She hums her approval eagerly, letting her fingers dig into his bicep in excitement. 

Have any of her previous lovers ever been this generous? 

She is still a little sensitive, but his touch is light and steady, and she can already feel the familiar sensation building. 

His other hand reaches for her breast, caressing the full shape with his palm. 

His fingers rub her nipple playfully, catching and releasing her hard tip between the index and middle finger over and over again. It feels good, but she has an idea how it could feel better. 

She places her hand over his and brings it to her mouth. She inserts the two of his fingers gently into her mouth, sucking at them vigorously.

“Raquel,” he moans. 

Even if she spent every moment of the rest of her life listening to him moan her name like this, she would never tire of it. 

She coats his fingers with her saliva before releasing them and guiding them back to her breast. 

She relishes the way her nipple responds to his dripping touch, his rubbing of her breast heightening the sensation of his rubbing between her legs. 

She needs just a little bit more.

“More please,” she groans, grinding her hips against his hand. 

“Moan for me,” he orders, his fingertips moving faster.

The straightforwardness of the request kindles the fire within her, and she wants to savor the words. 

“Sergio,” she moans. “Ask me again.”

“Moan for me, Raquel.”

“Sergio … Sergio …” 

Her breaths are shallow now, as she feels his fingers find the perfect rhythm.

“Yes … yes …”

“Raquel … moan for me.” 

“Sergio … Dios, Sergio …”

She reaches for his shoulder and his hair for something to hold on to, as his mouth finds her neck, sucking gently but sensually. 

“Sergio … yes … there … Sergio.”

She feels the familiar tingles coming closer, and she feels her whole body heat up in anticipation. She is so close. 

His circles remain magnificently steady, as his other hand pleasures her breast. 

“Moan for me, moan for me,” he groans hoarsely over and over again. 

Pulling at his hair, she arches her back, as her senses are about to overwhelm her.

“Sergio, Sergio, Sergio, Sergio, Sergio ...” 

She loses count how many times she says his name, but she is engulfed in ecstasy as her climax washes over her.

Her whole body shudders as she comes hard and fast, panting, barely able to stand. 

The hot tingling sensation permeates every fiber of her being, and she lets the sublime feeling entirely overpower her, melting against him.

She feels completely secure, held by his strong arms. He would never let her fall. 

She loves him so much. 

♡

His fingers have stilled, but he nuzzles the place where her ear meets her cheek in soothing motions. 

“You moaned for me,” he whispers playfully, but unable to completely hide the genuine delight in his voice. “You moaned _for me_.” 

It is not the first time she has moaned his name, but it is the first time he has asked so directly, and he seems to like it when she follows his directions. 

She leans into his nuzzles, her hands finding his forearms again, squeezing them tightly against her. 

“I will always moan for you.”

He lets out a sound that resembles a happy hum meeting a sensual grunt, as he gives her ear a playful bite before turning on the faucet again.

He carefully rinses the space between her legs, and then slides his palms across her body a few more times.

He turns the water off again, as his palms graze along her upper arms.

“Now you’re all set,” he says, satisfaction lacing every word.

He slides the shower door open.

She turns around to face him, sliding the shower door back closed.

“Not quite,” she replies, picking up the soap. 

He tilts his head, curiosity marking the handsome lines of his face.

“Not until you are too.” 

She turns the soap between her hands and then lets her foamy palms slide across his chest.

“Start with him,” he says, breaking into a small smile and looking down. “... while he’s still tired and soft.” 

She loves the unabashed way he can talk about his flaccid penis, but that he finds his long, hard, thick, beautiful cock a source of embarrassment at times. He truly is one of a kind. 

Her soapy hands caress his length in long, languid strokes, loving the way he feels in the palm of her hand. The way he feels beneath her fingertips. 

She loves him soft just as much as she loves him hard. She loves him because he is Sergio’s. 

She cannot remember the last time she felt like this, and she does not need to. The present moment, this current life that she is just starting to live feels so much better than any exaggerated, overplayed memory. 

She loves him so much. 

♡

She can feel him stir a little beneath his touch, and she knows he will not be soft for long if her fingers continue.

To his credit, Sergio does not disallow her touch. But she knows that he has already given her more than his propriety would otherwise have allowed, and she is starting to feel a bit guilty about lunch. 

She lets one hand dip lower to wash his balls, and a little groan escapes his lips. Just a little, but it is there. 

Satisfied with her work, she releases him, and she hears a sigh of relief escape his lips. 

She nudges at his leg, and he obliges, placing his foot on the shower ledge. 

She foams the soap, running her palms along his slender thigh. 

She lathers his knee, and then drifts down his graceful calves. She lets her nails graze through the long hairs stuck to his wet skin. 

Instead of bending down, she drops to her knees to reach his foot, lathering his heel and ankle first and then lavishing his sole and toes with foam. 

Turning to the foot on the floor, she runs her soapy fingertips across his inner and outer ankle, and then slides down to his beautifully formed toes. 

She traces the length of each toe individually, wondering how on earth he could be this gorgeous literally from head to toe. 

She looks up at him, and his eyelids are droopy but his gaze is unmistakably on her. 

She foams the soap again, moving up his calf and knee. Her hands drift away from each other as his thigh takes up space between them, her palms sliding upward in smooth strokes. 

Reapplying the soap, her fingers roam around the span of this limb that makes up one half of his lap. The only lap she ever wants to sit on. In more ways than one. 

Her fingers pause at the line where this leg meets his groin, and she lets her eyes drift to his center of pleasure. 

His penis is right there. Literally right there. Just waiting to be loved again. 

She looks up at him seductively, partly feeling guilty for tempting him, and partly asking for permission. 

“Raquel,” is all he says, but it is a desperate plea. 

Without a doubt, he is begging for the opposite of what any other man would ask for right now, and how can she not love him all the more for it. 

Her eyes travel back to his penis again, and she marvels at its beauty. 

She does not remember ever finding men’s genitalia particularly pretty in the past, so this must be just another thing she finds beautiful just because it belongs to him. 

Her chest fills with emotion when she realizes this is what it means to see the world through rose-colored glasses. 

She hopes with all her might that she never stops feeling this way. 

She loves him so much. 

♡

Leaning in, she places a single chaste kiss on his shaft.

She reaches for his hand, and he helps her back to her feet. 

His hand slips around her waist, and he kisses her temple. 

“Gracias,” he whispers. 

No one has ever thanked her for _not_ pleasuring them, but every day with Sergio is like discovering a whole new world. 

“De nada,” she says, placing her hands on his waist, which she uses for balance, as she reaches up on her tiptoes to find his lips.

She slips lazily into his mouth, trying to contain her hunger for him. 

He strokes her tongue languidly with his own, sucking at it gently. 

His mouth is a magical wonderland that he knows exactly how to use, and she cannot help but moan, ready to melt into him all over again. 

His hand finds hers and he places the soap into her palm.

Her feet land back onto the shower floor as she pulls away, chuckling. She gets the message loud and clear.

It is his turn to find her height, as he lowers his head, placing a small kiss on her cheek. 

She smiles, rubbing the soap between her hands and lathering his perfect pectoral muscles. She takes her time, letting her fingertips play a little with his chest hair as her palms slide across his beautiful planes. 

Her fingers drift down to his abdomen, her nails scraping gently across the skin, while her palms glide over the hard muscles. He likes the combination because he lets out a little hum.

She repeats the motion, and this time he responds by sliding his fingers across her neck, grazing and caressing her damp skin. The touch is so loving and inviting that nightfall truly cannot get here soon enough. 

She replies with a hum of her own, absorbed by his body again, paying particular attention to his navel. As her fingers trace the small valley, he predictably releases a tiny giggle because he is ticklish there, and she loves that she knows this body so well. A body that is his, but the way that he responds to her touch makes her feel like it belongs to her too. 

She loves him so much. 

♡

She turns to lather his armpit, letting her fingers rub and massage in long, slow, oval shapes. It is such a luxury to be able to finally touch him everywhere. 

He is male from head to toe, and the maleness of his underarm hair delights her. And yet, she is so head over heels in love with him that if he lost all his hair tomorrow, it would not change her feelings. But in the meantime, she is more than happy to savor his current looks for as long as the years will allow. 

She turns to run the soap across his upper arm, gliding across his bicep in long, languid strokes. These muscles that just moments ago held her body securely against his as she melted to the rhythm of the stars falling beneath her eyelids. 

Caressing his elbow, she moves lower, lavishing foam across his skin. Her nail traces the veins on the inside of his forearm, and his body shivers lightly. 

She lets her eyes travel up his arm to his face, and he is gazing at her with such unadulterated awe that she cannot stop a lump from forming in her throat. 

How is she supposed to process that this man, whom she loves with her entire heart and soul, is looking at her like she is the eighth wonder of the world? 

She is so unaccustomed to being the center of such pure adoration, and she is disconcerted to find that the intensity of it all makes her slightly … uncomfortable? 

There is no doubt that Sergio has always made her feel cherished, but whenever she has previously caught him staring at her, he would chuckle in embarrassment and look elsewhere. 

Now, a touch of pink finds his cheeks, but he holds her gaze, smiling. 

She is the one to break eye contact in this new dynamic, bowing her head and letting her hands guide her out of her discomposure. 

She will need some time to get used to this level of admiration.

Raquel lathers his hand, grazing his knuckles one by one. She slides her own fingers down the back of his hand and when they dip in the spaces between his fingers, his hand flexes, capturing her fingers with his. He gives their intertwined fingers a little squeeze before releasing them. 

He is so loveable. 

She loves him so much. 

♡

She repeats many of the same motions on his other hand, paying particular attention to his long, dexterous fingers. Fingers that have drawn out pleasure from so many different parts of her body that, if someone asked, she would not be able to count them all. 

Her thumbs press into the palm of his hand, the way he has done to her countless times. She hears a sigh escape his lips, and she smiles. 

Her fingertips drift upwards to brush against the inside of his wrist, before sliding up his forearm. 

She remembers the soap again, finding the contrast between the foam and his tanned skin oddly striking. 

The shades of his body are so different now compared to when she first met him. His coloring is a testament to a year in the sun instead of a life spent indoors. 

She prefers him now because he is happier, but she has vivid memories of enjoying him even when he was pale as a ghost. At the end of the day, she loves his every feature and attribute, just because they are his. 

She loves him so much. 

♡

Her fingers play with the hairs on his forearm, drifting past his elbow to his upper arm. 

She delights in the feel of his smooth bicep under the palms of her hands, remembering all the times that it has lifted her off the floor in utter abandon, or sustained his body above hers as they groaned and grunted into each other’s shoulders. 

She foams her hands again, as her fingers move symmetrically across his shoulders and collarbones, and then slide up his neck. 

Her fingertips brush against the first traces of his beard, and he lets out a contented sigh. 

She lifts herself up on her tiptoes to give him a quick kiss on the cheek, but he has other plans because the moment her lips meet his skin, his palms are sliding down her waist, pulling her body into his. 

Her hands twine around his neck, as she peppers kisses along his jaw and neck.

She lets her heels land back down, as his grip on her waist loosens and she rests her chin on his chest. 

“Why is the night so far away?” he murmurs in her ear, his hands sliding further down her body, giving her ass an affectionate squeeze. 

“It is already night somewhere in the world,” she says, the tip of her tongue playing with the hairs on his neck. 

He chuckles. “We should wait for our night to begin.”

Her heart feels inexplicably warm at the words _our night_. 

How on earth is he making everything sound so romantic today? 

“As you wish,” she says, nudging her hips into him playfully and feeling his length stir against her stomach. 

He groans a little, but does not chastise her this time. “Some things are worth the wait.” 

“Some things?” 

“You,” he says softly. “You are worth the wait.” 

She sighs happily. 

“And …” he starts, but his voice trails off.

“And?” 

She feels his breath pause against her skin. 

“And … and I don’t mean just tonight,” he whispers. 

His words are barely audible, like it is a secret. Like he is afraid of saying it out loud.

“Oh, Sergio,” she says, her heart filling with so much emotion that she thinks it might burst out of her chest.

She looks at him, and she sees pink flood his cheeks. 

His eyes avoid hers, but he does not turn away.

“Sergio,” she repeats softly, stroking his cheeks with her thumbs. 

His hold around her waist tightens, and she repeats his name. 

“Sergio.” 

She observes him, feeling a mix of compassion and wonder, as his gaze slowly travels across the features of her face.

When his dark eyes finally lock with hers, they tell her all the things that he cannot find the words to say. 

Since the moment they met, the emotions in his eyes have always been genuine. 

The attraction. The empathy. The passion. The affection. The love. 

It had always been real. 

It does not matter to Raquel that he cannot say it out loud. She thanks her lucky stars that she finally prefers one sincere, indirect compliment and a gaze that melts her insides over a thousand empty _I love you_ ’s. 

“Raquel.”

Everything she needs to know is in the tenderness of his voice, in the respect of her name on his lips, in the security of his arms around her waist, in the heat of his hardness against her belly, and in the deep devotion of his dark orbs. 

“Sergio.”

There is no trace of her earlier discomfort at the intensity of his gaze, and she revels in the synchronicity of this perfect moment.

His face inches towards hers in magical slow motion, preserving the idyll they have just created.

She is unaware of her own response until her wet tongue licks her own lips in anticipation. 

His hands slide up the sides of her body to cup her face. 

He lets his nose nuzzle against hers, and she returns the gesture. 

Life has made them both serious adults, but she loves how unabashedly sweet they can be with each other. In moments like these, he makes her whole existence feel carefree. 

He holds her face steady, as his lips brush hers. Once. Twice. Three times. 

Her lips part to let him in, but instead the tip of his tongue traces her bottom lip lazily. 

He does the same to her top lip before capturing it between his own, and sucking gently. 

Letting him lead the kiss, her fingers roam across his shoulders. She drags her nails across the smooth planes of his back, while her other hand plays with the hair at the nape of his neck. 

His tongue finally slips between her lips, and it feels so good that she whimpers. 

She cannot imagine ever getting tired of kissing him. 

She strokes his tongue with her own, and he moans in return. 

He explores every crevice of her mouth, as she gives his tongue little sucks, her fingers grasping at his hair. 

She lives to feel like this, like he can never get enough of her. Like she is his favorite last meal. 

Favorite.

This is the word that she has been looking for. It perfectly describes the intensity with which he looks at her. 

He makes her feel like his favorite everything.

She loves him so much. 

♡

He tilts his head to deepen the kiss, groaning into her mouth.

The sound reverberates through her whole body, and she moans back, pushing her whole body into his. 

She feels his large hand slip into her hair, and he is kissing her with wild abandon now, and she never wants him to stop.

Out of the blue, he pulls away, taking a step back, panting heavily.

“Lo siento mucho, Raquel, but I can’t,” he apologizes profusely. “We–we–we can’t again. _I_ can’t again. Lunch.”

“It’s okay,” she says, caressing his cheek. 

“Lo siento,” he says, more quietly this time, and he appears more upset at having to disappoint her than his hardening cock. 

“Night will be here soon,” she promises, giving him a small smile.

When he does not respond, she nuzzles his nose, and that elicits a tiny smile from him. 

Then she adds, in a lighter tone, “Now, let me finish cleaning you up before my mother or Paula barge in here.”

He looks at her curiously. “But the door is locked.”  
It is her turn to be surprised. 

“You locked it?” She looks at him wryly. “This paints your intentions in a wholly different light.”

“My intentions _were_ entirely innocent.”

“And locking the door was …?”

“A precaution against _your_ intentions.”

She rolls her eyes. “Let it be noted that _you_ started it. _I_ was following the rules.”

“There is no video evidence to support your claim.”

For a moment, she wants to respond indignantly, but a better idea occurs to her. 

She arches her eyebrow at him. “Video footage, you say …” 

A look of sheer horror crosses his face. “Raquel, we are _not_ installing a camera in the shower.”

“Who said anything about installing?”

He shakes his head in shock and desperation, while laughter bubbles deep inside her. 

She bows her head, laughing uncontrollably into his stiff chest. 

Soon enough, his body is trembling along with hers, and the sound of his laughs join hers. 

She loves him so much. 

♡

Their laugher echoes off the shower walls, and she inhales deeply as she reaches for the shampoo bar on the shower rack. 

“You still need shampoo.”

He gives her a little nod, and her arms stretch up to reach his head.

She tries to rub the bar against his hair, but the height difference makes it all very awkward and clumsy, and she groans in frustration.

“What if we …” he begins to say, as his hands find both sides of her ass, lifting her up smoothly. 

As always, her legs wrap around his waist in a well-practiced dance, and suddenly he is the one looking up at her and a thrill runs through her.

“Better?” he asks.

“Perfect,” she says, resting her upper arm on his shoulder for more leverage as she slides the bar across his black locks. 

The shampoo foams and she lets her fingers roam across his scalp, tracing random lines through his beautiful mane. 

He is still while she tends to his hair, his arms holding her securely, and she loves that he is allowing her to do this, even if it is slower than doing it himself. 

She hears a gentle hum, and then another, and then it becomes a melody. 

This one is unfamiliar to her and she cannot discern a pattern, but it means that he enjoys this, and that is all she needs to know. 

The thought moves her so, and she feels her eyes mist. 

Is this real? 

Can a man truly be this wonderful? 

She loves him so much. 

♡

“Water, please.”

As the water drips down their joined bodies, she runs her fingers through his locks, rinsing out the shampoo. 

He turns the water to a tiny drip setting, as she runs the conditioner bar across his luscious mane once and again.

She is done with her task, but she does not want to let go just yet, so she pulls him towards her, nudging his face into her neck and snaking both arms tightly around his head. 

She savors the feel of his skin against hers.

Sergio does not miss a beat because his hands travel up her back, his palms gliding along her skin in long, lazy shapes. 

He lets her hold him tightly, but his mouth opens against her neck, and he suckles at her skin, the tip of his tongue flicking a particularly sensitive spot. 

It kindles the fire she had just extinguished, and she sighs, half in pleasure and half in frustration. 

“You really are not making this easy for either of us, are you?”

“Me?” he says, feigning obliviousness.

“Yes, you,” she says sternly, but unable to stifle a chuckle. “Okay, I’m done!” 

She releases the grip of her ankles around his waist and he lets her back down. 

“Just one more part,” she says.

He gives her a wary look, but she holds his gaze expectantly, adamant that he has no other choice but to comply. 

He nods, letting out a resigned sigh.

She reaches up and places a kiss on his cheek before proceeding to soap her hands.

Stepping between his feet, her hands reach behind him, as she slides her palms down his glutes. 

Her fingers move up and down the round expanse of his muscular ass cheeks, and she revels in this roundest part of his body. 

Men have curves too, and she delights in his. 

She loves him so much. 

♡

She foams the soap again, letting her hands move symmetrically across his ass cheeks, her fingers following the shape of the buttocks as they meet beneath his spine. 

“Thorough,” he says.

“Just returning the favor.” 

When he does not respond to that, she asks, “Do you want me to stop?”

“I didn’t say that.” 

There is a hint of amusement in his voice, and looking up at him, she can see a faint smile grace his face.

Her fingertips rub the foam into the hidden parts of his skin, moving down the insides of his cheeks. 

As her touch moves around his opening, she gradually varies the shapes and the pressure, her eyes fixed on his face for any sign of discomfort.

But he seems to like it all because he is looking down at her, fully smiling now. 

She loves exploring him, and the fact that he is enjoying it all so brazenly is the cherry on top of the most delicious cake.

Then his lower lip disappears between his teeth. 

Intrigued, she lets her fingers retrace their most recent trajectory with the same pressure, and this time he inhales sharply.

“You like that?” she asks, repeating the act once again.

He nods a little shyly, maintaining eye contact, and the loving heat in his gaze makes her weak in the knees.

Her fingertips roam freely, trying out a few other combinations, but always coming back to the maneuver that enthralls him, as much for his own benefit as for her own practice. 

When a guttural moan escapes his lips, she takes it as her cue to stop. 

She gives each ass cheek a final squeeze, followed by a little slap.

He gasps in surprise, but his eyes burn with desire, and she makes a mental note that he likes that too. 

Sergio turns the faucet on, taking a step back to make space for her hands between their bodies.

He lathers her hands with precision, scrubbing each finger individually, as she watches him in awe. The concentration on his face continues to charm her anew every time. 

Then he places her palms on his chest, and he runs his fingers through his hair to rinse out the conditioner. 

She feels like a mere mortal watching a Grecian god bathe under a waterfall, and she cannot help herself as her fingers drift to her breast while her other hand slips between their bodies.

When he opens his eyes, his expression turns conflicted, but he catches her wrist before she can touch herself or him.

“In a few hours,” he promises, bringing the back of her hand to his lips. 

He stills the hand that is on her breast, bowing his head to capture the nipple with his mouth instead. 

A tingle runs through her whole body, and she cannot wait to bury his face in her chest.

“Soon,” he promises, brushing his lips against the sensitive skin before lifting his head again. 

His eyes find hers, and his finger caresses her jaw. 

Sergio’s lips turn into a smile and then a huge grin. 

“Lunch?” he asks. 

His enthusiasm is infectious, and she cannot help but return his grin. 

She nods eagerly, sliding the shower door open before her libido has time to change her mind. 

Taking the towel from the hook, he holds it open for her.

She walks into his arms, and he wraps the towel around her.

She leans into him, nuzzling his nose for the hundredth time today. 

She loves him so much. 

♡

“Gracias,” she says warmly, as she steps out of the shower.

She does not hold onto the towel, and it falls to floor. 

After 72 hours in the same outfit, this glorious shower has liberated her, and even a towel feel oppressive.

“I think I’m going to air dry,” she tells him before stepping into the bedroom.

She walks across the bedroom to the open window. She is not even sure what to call it since the whole house is framed by one continuous window. 

The view from their bedroom is breathtaking. The sandy beach extends as far as the eye can see, and small fishing boats line the horizon, just beneath the mid-afternoon sun.

She is already missing him when she finally hears him come out of the bathroom.

“This view is stunning,” she says. 

“Indeed,” he replies, and when she turns to look at him, his gaze is traveling up and down her bare body. 

His double entendre makes her grin. “You don’t even have your glasses.”

He walks over to her, his arms enveloping her from behind. 

His lips brush against her ear. “I don’t need my glasses to know basic facts.”

Sergio’s nerdy statement feels like the most enchanting compliment she has ever received about her looks, and her whole insides melt at the words. 

She loves him so much. 

♡

“You chose black pants over air drying with me?” she teases, tugging at the dark linen.

“I don’t trust you enough today to wear anything but black.”

A small laugh escapes her lips. “Touché.” 

“Besides, everyone in this house has seen _you_ naked, but only _you_ should see _me_ naked.”

She is touched by his degree of forethought. “You’re probably right.”

“Probably?”

She chuckles. “You’re too easy to tease.”

Her eyes return back to the skyline. “It is so beautiful here.” 

“All the more beautiful now that you’re here.”

Her hands drift up his forearms, returning his loving embrace. 

Her head leans back against him, and his lips leave little kisses along her clavicle.

She sighs happily.

“Mami! Salva!” Paula runs in squealing. “Lunch is ready.” 

She stops before them, tilting her head. “Mami, why are you still naked?” 

A bare-chested Sergio does not appear to faze her at all. 

Raquel cannot help but laugh. “We were just admiring the view, Paula, but we’re almost ready.” 

“Vamos, mami, vamos!”

Paula runs back out, and Sergio tries to nudge them towards the bed, but the idea of putting on clothes again feels oppressive. 

Sergio glances at his watch. “We have one minute left, Raquel.”

“Why are you so stressed about the time?”

“If we are late, I am positive your mother is going to ask me about our sex life again.”

“Again?” This was news to her, though hardly surprising. “Oh, you’ll get used to it.”

“I really, _truly_ hope that I never do,” he says earnestly, and when she looks at him, she can see a blush creep into his cheeks. 

He nudges her to the bed again and this time she lets him.

She is delighted to discover that the clothes on the bed are a simple sleeveless dress of white linen and a pair of white underwear with a touch of lace. 

Her mother always knows just what she needs.

She picks the dress up, and Sergio places a hand on her shoulder. 

“Let me,” he says, taking the dress from her hands.

He holds the dress above her head, and as she reaches her arms up, he slides the airy material over her. 

Raquel cannot remember the last time anyone dressed her, and it makes her feel so cared for. 

His movements are so gentle that it makes her think that if, god forbid, he ever needed to dress Mariví or Paula, she would trust him implicitly. 

Warmth fills her insides. 

He proceeds to sit on the bed, and he is just as deliberate picking up the bikini-style panties, and holding them out before her feet. 

With one arm on his shoulder, Raquel steps one foot and then the other into the garment. 

Sergio slides it up her calves, and she shivers when his fingertips drag across the sides of her thighs. 

It is both cute and sexy and she loves when he reveals this side of himself in the most unexpected moments.

She loves him so much. 

♡

His palms rest on her hips, and she loves the feel of his big hands on her waist. 

She feels like he is anchoring her, but also like he is being anchored by her in return. 

It feels shared. 

Reciprocal. 

Equal. 

She lets out a contented sigh, and then his hands pull her towards him. 

His arms twine around her thighs, and he buries his face between her ribs, inhaling deeply. 

Her own arms wrap around his head, pulling him closer. 

Who could have told her that she would ever fall this deeply in love again? 

She has been telling herself for the past year that she is too old to believe in soulmates and happily ever afters, but she knows that she cannot remember ever feeling this way before. 

Has it just been so long that she has forgotten or is this a completely new experience? 

She only knows that she never wants to stop feeling the way she does when she is with him. She never wants to stop _being_ with him. 

She revels in this new embrace, her nerve endings delighting in the power of his arms around her and the feel of his damp hair under her fingertips. 

But then his body starts trembling, and then shaking, and it’s like he is … sobbing silently?

She loosens her grip in an effort to look at his face, but he just hugs her tightly instead. 

Pressed against her, she can feel his mouth open through the thin material of her dress. His breath is hot and frantic, as inaudible, strangled cries escape him. 

Her heart aches for him. These are sobs of relief, but she knows that they come from a tightly wound bundle of deep pain and anxiety. 

He has never before been this openly vulnerable with her, with nothing at stake. 

Even if he cannot look her in the eye, he is holding on to _her_. They are going through this _together_. 

It is a big step for someone like Sergio who is so used to doing everything on his own. 

Her body reverberates with his agonizing sobs, and all she can do is hold him. 

Her heart hurts for him.

Her one arm snakes back around his head, holding him close, as she places soft kisses on his damp hair. Her other hand draws the figure eight on his shoulder blade in gentle, repetitive lines. 

She strokes the hair at the nape of his neck in oval motions, alternating the pressure of her fingertips akin to a gentle massage. 

Her ministrations are consistent, riding out the shudders of his sobs, even as they gradually lose their intensity and begin to recede.

He holds onto her tightly for a long time, and she is grateful that she can be his anchor.

She loves him so much. 

♡

Savoring the mutual embrace, Raquel lets her cheek rest on the top of his head.

“Lo siento. You’re tired,” he whispers into her chest.

“Nothing to apologize for,” she responds softly, stroking his hair. 

A faraway yell from Paula reaches their ears. “Luuuuuuuuunch!”

At the sound of her daughter’s voice, she feels his body completely change beneath her touch. His muscles stiffen. His back straightens.

His forehead still rests against her, and she feels him take a deep breath. 

He pulls back, but instead of looking up at her, his eyes remain on her body. He takes another deep breath, visibly struggling to contain his emotions.

His hands move from the back of her thighs across her linen dress until they rest heavily on her hips. 

Now he is also anchoring her.

She lets her own hands find his on her hips. As soon as her skin touches his, his hands turn and grasp her own. It’s a tight, desperate grip. 

She squeezes his hands in return. 

He clears his throat, still avoiding her gaze. “Ready for lunch?”

“ _I_ am. But you might want to put on a shirt, playboy,” she jokes, hoping to tease out a smile from him before they head to lunch. 

He looks at his own bare chest. “Oh. I guess you’re right.” Then he looks at his watch. “We are _so_ late.”

He gives her hands another squeeze before releasing them. She steps aside to let him stand up, and he walks over to the dresser without meeting her eyes.

She marvels at the strength of his arms and the well-formed planes of his back, and their stark contrast to the sobbing man in her embrace just moments ago.

He pulls a loose-fitting white linen shirt over his head, and then slips his glasses on.

When he turns to her, Sergio’s eyes find hers and he gives her a small, but genuine smile. 

He stretches his hand out to her. 

She knows it is silly, but she is so delighted by this gesture that her feet move of their own accord. Her palm slides into his, squeezing tightly. Maybe she is truly becoming a teenager again, but she does not mind one bit. 

His smile turns into a grin, and he lifts their joined hands to place a chaste kiss on the back of her hand.

She loves him so, so, so much. 

♡

She returns his grin and lets him lead them both to their first family lunch in their new home. 

♡♡♡

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I go overboard? Was it way too long? Way too detailed? Way too everything? 🤔
> 
> I tried to make it shorter but they just would not get out of that shower! 🙈
> 
> Any guesses as to what happens in the next chapter? 😉
> 
> Love any and all thoughts, comments, reviews, feedback, concrit, emojicrit … anything really. 😌 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! 💕
> 
> PS You can find me on Twitter at [@SerqueInfinitua](https://twitter.com/SerqueInfinitua)


	3. The Queendom of a Thousand Little Foods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
> ❂
> 
>   
> ~ The family enjoys lunch, Paula enjoys the adults’ attention, and Raquel enjoys a nap ~ 
> 
>   
> ❂
> 
>   
>  [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/190672350@N04/50653897416/in/dateposted-public/)   
>    
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> Thank you for your truly wonderful comments here and on Twitter! The shower lovefest was as unplanned by me as by Sergio, but I am so encouraged by you embracing that super-long happy accident 💕🥺💕🥺
> 
>   
> Thank you to my girl **M** who always lets me bounce ideas off her. You make me better ♡  
> 
> 
>   
> A big shout out to **kabbyqueen** whose comment on the previous chapter inspired the format for this chapter and the next one.  
> 
> 
>   
> To minimize disappointment, I should let you know that this chapter is rated T, but the next one will be M.  
> 
> 
>   
> ♡  
> 

❂

Sergio’s stride is longer, and Raquel has to take three steps for every two of his to match his pace. 

He is determined to get them to lunch as soon as possible. 

She appreciates his enthusiasm. 

Enthusiasm for spending time with her family. 

_Their_ family. 

His hand holds onto hers firmly, and she is just a step behind him as they enter the biggest room in the house. 

She loves being led by someone she can rely on. 

She loves being led by _him_.

_This is what certainty feels like._

❂

As soon as Paula sees them, she squeals, throwing herself into her mother’s embrace.

“Mamiiiiii! Finally!”

Raquel lets go of Sergio’s hand to pick her daughter up. 

Wrapped around her body for the second time that day, Paula rests her head on Raquel’s shoulder, the way she has done ever since she was a toddler. 

“I missed you too, corazón,” she says, rubbing her daughter’s back.

Raquel’s gaze travels across the spacious room, drifting from the couch and coffee table to the four-person dining table. 

At the far end of the room is the large kitchen area, where her mother looms over the stove, stirring a tall pot.

She walks towards her, a familiar aroma reawakening Raquel’s appetite. 

“Is this what I think it is, mamá?”

“What else could it be for your first day here?” 

Raquel leans in to kiss her mother on the cheek. She cannot wait to drown her taste buds in her favorite soup. 

Mariví hums in response, stroking Paula’s hair, and Raquel marvels at how easy their routine feels, even twelve thousand kilometers from Madrid. 

She feels her lips curl into a smile. 

_This is what home feels like._

❂

Raquel scans the kitchen for a water carafe. She is so thirsty.

With Paula still in her arms, she moves to the kitchen counter and awkwardly pours herself a glass before gulping it down. 

“Did you enjoy your shower, hija?”

“It was wonderful, mamá. Just what I needed. Thank you for giving us the time.” 

Mariví smiles knowingly, and Raquel feels immensely grateful to have a mother who wants her to enjoy the love she has found. 

“Did you enjoy it too, Salva?”

Raquel glances back to find Sergio by the dining table, dismay written all over his face.

His cheeks turn red and he stutters, “Uh–ummm …” 

And then his gaze drops to the ground and he remains unnaturally still, as if hypnotized by a mosaic beneath his feet. 

To ease his embarrassment, Raquel replies, “He definitely did, mamá.”

Mariví chuckles. “Very well then.”

Sergio’s eyes remain on the floor, but his posture softens in relief. 

He is so precious. 

_This is what kindness feels like._

❂

“Lunch is ready.”

The announcement rouses Sergio. 

Moving swiftly to the stove, he proceeds to carry the soup pot to the dining table, still avoiding eye contact with anyone. 

Raquel puts Paula back down, and her daughter confidently takes a seat at one long end of the rectangular table. 

Mariví sits at the opposite end, facing Paula. 

Standing by one short end of the table, Sergio pulls the chair out. He is about to sit down, but then his eyes find hers, and he pauses.

They have all taken their seats with such ease, and Raquel cannot help but be surprised that everyone already seems to have a designated position at the table. 

Sergio looks at her questioningly, so she walks to the last unclaimed chair, giving him a little nod before sitting down.

With her daughter to her right and her mother to her left, Sergio sits across from her. 

Raquel cannot tell who is at the head of the table, him or her, but it is just as well because it does not matter. 

They are equals.

_This is what parity feels like._

❂

“I know we don’t usually pray,” Mariví says, “but I think we should give thanks today.”

“I agree!” Paula says enthusiastically.

It reminds Raquel of how worried they all must have been, waiting for her. 

As worried as she had been, wondering if her daughter had arrived safely after her mother. 

Raquel reaches one hand to Paula and another to Mariví, and she smiles seeing Sergio follow her lead.

As their hands and arms form a circle, Mariví closes her eyes to speak. 

“We thank all the spiritual and human beings who have helped keep us safe in our travels.”

Raquel feels so grateful for her mother’s recent lucidity and gentle nature that allowed her to travel with a handler without incident. 

“We thank the universe for reuniting our family.”

She looks at her daughter, who is grinning at her grandmother from ear to ear, and Raquel feels her eyes begin to mist.

She has lived and breathed for this moment every single day of the past two months, clutching at the dreamlike possibility that one day soon they would all finally be free from Alberto. 

Smiling to herself, Raquel blinks the unformed tears away. She wants to enjoy this feeling of sublime relief in all its clarity. 

“We thank Salva who has received and welcomed us all so kindly.”

Raquel sees a trace of surprise cross Sergio’s face, but he seems pleased. 

He really has no idea how wonderful he is. 

“We thank the plants and animals who serve as our food today so that we may enjoy this meal together. Amen.”

Raquel says _amen_ at the same time that Sergio does, and it makes her chuckle inside. 

Paula adds, “And we thank the planes and the boats that brought us here. Amen.”

“Amen,” Mariví affirms, and Sergio and Raquel follow with another simultaneous _amen_. 

It is so small _and_ so trivial _and_ so obviously the only thing to say in response, and yet, it reminds her of all the ways that the two of them are on the same page. 

Certainly not in _all_ the ways, but perhaps in all the ways that matter. 

In all the ways that speak to her soul. 

_This is what synchronicity feels like._

❂

The domestic goddess that she is, her mother proceeds to serve the soup. She starts with Sergio, then Raquel, then Paula, and ends with herself.

It had been just the three of them for long enough that Mariví’s new serving sequence suddenly feels … jarring. 

Because it is sexist. 

And yet, it is not particularly new; it had been like this for most of Raquel’s life—first in her childhood home and later in her marital home, because she had unwittingly followed in her mother’s footsteps. 

She feels empathy for her mother. 

There is a man at the table again and old habits die hard, especially after missing one for so long. 

It is not particularly surprising that, based on the few interactions she has already witnessed today, her mother is thrilled to have Sergio around. 

Raquel is not about to make a big deal out of this right now, but she makes a mental note to figure out a way to fix it before this inequitable pattern is forever internalized in her daughter’s eyes.

One step at a time. 

_This is what progress feels like._

❂

“The soup is delicious,” Sergio says in the most complimentary and polite way.

“Gracias, Salva.”

“Mmmm,” Raquel sighs, taking another spoonful of her _sopa de verduras_. “It’s a little spicy, no? What did you add? I love it!”

“The pepper was a lot spicier than I thought it would be, but it was already too late. And there are a few herbs we couldn’t find, so it doesn’t taste exactly like your favorite,” Mariví justifies quickly.

Raquel reaches for her mother’s hand, resting her palm over it. 

“It’s delectable, mamá. Different can be just as good.” 

Mariví smiles.

Raquel’s eyes travel to find Sergio’s, as she adds, “And sometimes even better.” 

He locks his gaze with hers and his whole face lights up. Like he is smiling with his eyes.

“I like it too,” Paula says.

Raquel is so grateful to have a daughter who, despite her young age, can read the room and be supportive when she wants to be. 

She takes another spoonful, reveling in the sensation of the cooked vegetables melting in her mouth. 

“So what have you been up to with abuela and Sergio these days?” 

“Who is Sergio, mami?”

Joder, joder, joder!

“Eh–ah–umm–eh–uh …” 

Raquel is at a complete loss. She has not planned for this kind of colossal slip up. 

Mierda! She must be way more tired than she feels. 

“I am Sergio,” he says calmly, and everyone turns to him. “Sergio is the name I use in the Philippines. Sometimes, when you travel very far, you get to choose a new name. So here, I am Sergio.”

And just like that, he saves her. 

She feels a strong desire to go to him, straddle him in his chair, hold his face in her hands and look deeply into his eyes while she tells him that he is the most perfect man that she could ever imagine. 

Instead, she gives him her widest grin. 

_This is what partnership feels like._

❂

“So we should call you Sergio all the time?” Paula asks.

“Yes.”

She watches her daughter quietly process the information before turning to her with eyes as big as saucers.

“Does this mean …” Paula says, trying to contain her excitement, but she is almost yelling. “Does this mean I get to pick a new name too?” 

“Well … I suppose so …”

Paula lets out a squeal of delight. “I am now Princess Elsa! I am now Princess Elsa!”

Madre mía. This is going to be interesting. 

Sergio mouths a _lo siento_ , but she dismisses it with a small shake of the head and a smile. Life with children is always unpredictable.

“Abuela, abuela, what is your new name?”

“Hmm, I’m not sure yet. I’ll have to think about it.” 

Raquel can see that the Sergio reveal has left her mother deep in thought, but to her credit, she does not say anything. Like all the women in the family, she knows how to read the room.

“And you, mami?” Paula asks, still very excited. 

She looks at her daughter briefly.

Then her eyes move to Sergio who is slipping his spoon through those delicious lips of his. 

“Lisboa.” 

As expected, Sergio’s eyes fly up to find hers and she holds his gaze.

They used a different system of fake names for her family’s extraction from Spain to avoid even the remotest chance of being linked to the heist. 

She has been thinking about her city name for a long time, and it seems fitting to share it now. 

She too has traveled very, very far to be here today with the people that she loves. 

“Mami, that is the name of a city, not of a person!”

As her daughter continues to chatter on, everything else around Raquel blurs except Sergio and the way that he is looking at her right now.

His eyes undress her until she feels completely naked under his voracious gaze.

The intensity of his stare reaches all the way to her lower abdomen.

 _Lisboa_ , he mouths to her.

The consonants of her new name make his tongue and lips move in a way reminiscent of his kisses. 

She recalls the last time his mouth was on hers, less than an hour ago, and she is certain that she is already wet again. 

His hunger sets her on fire. 

_This is what desire feels like._

❂

Mariví clears her throat. 

"Querida familia. I know that today is a special day, but I have never seen any of you eat this slowly, and the meat is going to get cold. Again."

"Disculpa, Mariví," Sergio says quickly, focusing back on his soup.

He proceeds to partake in the dish before him with such speedy precision that he looks like a soup-eating athlete. Deliberate, fast, and yet somehow elegant. 

No wonder her mother loves him. As far as food is concerned, he is going to do well in this household. 

Raquel looks to Paula who gives her a knowing smile. One of Mariví’s very few pet peeves is the meal getting cold. 

The two of them exchange nods and dig into the tasty soup.

_This is what teamwork feels like._

❂

Collecting the empty soup plates, Sergio takes them to the kitchen, while Mariví brings the main dish.

Raquel’s mouth salivates as the familiar aroma overwhelms her senses. 

After three days of travel food, any real food would have excited her, but the mere scent of _pollo en salsa con vino blanco_ takes her directly to food heaven. 

Sergio returns with a bottle of wine and a carton of juice. 

“I’m sorry I forgot the drinks,” he says sheepishly.

“It was my fault. I distracted you,” her mother says, referencing her cheeky question from earlier.

Mariví pats his arm reassuringly, and he gives her a congenial smile. 

The brief exchange moves Raquel. 

Her mother may enjoy pushing his buttons, but she understands that her approval plays a big role in putting him at ease as they navigate this new family dynamic together. 

And for his part, Sergio has not only already figured out what is important to her mother, but he is also more than happy to oblige. 

Raquel has not been particularly worried about how her mother and Sergio would get along, but it still warms her heart to witness the start of a bond between the two of them without any intervention from herself.

Sergio begins to serve the drinks.

“Gracias,” Paula says happily after he fills her wine glass with apple juice.

He moves to Raquel’s side, pouring the chardonnay for her, as his other hand rests on her back. 

Her eyes close for a moment, letting herself revel in the feeling of his hot palm against the thin fabric of her dress. 

She wants to touch him in return, but anything below the waist is likely to startle him, and that is not her goal. But everything above the waist is not easily accessible at this angle.

“Gracias,” she says, and she feels him stroke her back before he moves to her other side to serve Mariví.

She know has a good view of his butt. 

At this angle, even in the loose-fitting linen pants, his ass looks great. 

She contains herself from touching it, and instead places her hand gently on his lower back.

He is not looking at her, but she can see a smile tug at his lips.

The way they can delight each other with the simplest and briefest of touches fills her with awe.

_This is what infatuation feels like._

❂

“A toast,” Sergio says. 

His voice is soft but all eyes turn to him. 

He has known her mother and her daughter for five minutes, and he is already the man of the house. 

A part of her wants to roll her eyes. 

Men have it so easy. Most of the time all they have to do is show up. 

The other part of her watches him like the rest of her family, with heart eyes and ready to melt at his every word.

Upholding her highest feminist ideals is so hard when she is also trying to make a cis-gendered man feel included in her very girly family. 

The fact that she is head over heels in love with him is not helping. At all.

She is a bad feminist. 

Maybe if she just accepted it, she would not have to deal with all these internal contradictions. 

Sergio clears his throat. 

“A toast to you all, for coming to Palawan.” 

He smiles. 

“And for …”

He swallows, trying again. “… for welcoming me into …” 

He hesitates, his eyes dropping onto his wine glass. 

Mariví and Paula do not seem to mind because they hang on his every word, encouraging him with enthusiastic nods. 

“For being so welcoming,” he concludes. 

He raises his glass towards them. “It is an honor to be among you.”

He says _among_ instead of _with_ , and it is the closest he can get to saying the word _family_ out loud.

Even if he is not ready to say it, Raquel loves that he tried. 

Paula claps her hands in delight, and then joins the adults in raising her glass. 

“To all of us!” Mariví exclaims.

“Hear, hear!” they murmur, clinking their glasses.

_This is what optimism feels like._

❂

Raquel lets the wine swish in the glass before bringing it to her lips.

“Mmm … this is a good bottle!”

Mariví approves with a hum of her own.

Sergio beams. “I’m so glad you like it.”

“I like my juice too,” Paula chimes in, never one to be excluded.

“Better than yesterday’s?” he asks.

“Much better!” 

They exchange smiles, and Raquel feels her insides melt. 

She cannot decide who is more adorable, her daughter or her lover. 

Her mother proceeds to serve the main dish.

As soon as Raquel’s portion hits her plate, her knife and fork cut swiftly through the tender meat.

When the familiar taste finally touches her tongue, she cannot help but close her eyes. 

Her mother’s cooking has no price. 

She will never take it for granted ever again. 

_This is what home tastes like._

❂

Raquel chews slowly, finishing the last mouthful of the most delicious meal she has ever had in her entire life.

She looks up from her empty plate to find three pairs of eyes staring at her. 

Their plates are all still full while she has cleared hers off. 

She shrugs. “I’m hungry.”

“Would you like some more, hija?”

They are all still staring at her, so she pauses for effect before answering.

“Claro que sí!” 

Paula is the first to giggle, then Mariví chuckles, and Sergio grins.

Raquel lets out a laugh, and one by one they all follow her lead until the room is echoing in hearty, full-belly laughs. 

_This is what joy feels like._

❂

Her appetite sated, Raquel takes her time eating her second serving of pollo en salsa. 

This time it is for pure pleasure, and her taste buds revel in the heavenly blend of garlic and onion with lemon and cilantro. 

“How do you like it?” Mariví asks Sergio.

“Absolutely delicious,” he says. “What do you think? Should we stick with today’s or yesterday’s?”

“I vote for today’s.”

“I concur,” Sergio responds with a small nod.

“Me too!” Paula squeals.

Raquel is completely lost. “What are we taking about?” 

“Salva has been helping me find the best local farms to get our food. We think we finally fou–”

“Sergio! Sergio! His name is Sergio!”

“Ah, you are right, Paulita.”

“My name is Princesa Elsa.” 

“That’s true. Disculpa, Princesa Elsa,” her mother says like it is the most normal thing in the world, and then turns back to Raquel. “We’ve tried various chicken farms and we think that today’s is the best one. What do you think?”

“No complaints from me,” she says, taking another mouthful. It is so good. 

She might be able to eat pollo en salsa every day for the rest of her life if her mother made it.

“More wine? Mariví? Raquel?” 

“Sergio,” Paula says very seriously. “Even if it’s strange, mamá is called Lisboa here.” 

In an equally serious tone, he responds, “You are absolutely right, Princesa Elsa.”

Raquel has to bite her cheek to not burst out laughing. 

Mariví moves her wine glass closer to Sergio, and he refills it.

“And you, Lis–boa?” 

The slow, deliberate way he says it sends shivers up her spine. 

She enunciates each consonant of her city name in return.

“Lis–boa … would _love_ another glass.” 

In mere moments, he is by her side again, refilling the empty glass. 

At a volume only she can hear, he whispers, “Lisboa.” 

The three syllables roll off his tongue and her mind fills with memories of his kisses all over her body. 

She digs her nails into her bare thighs, trying to feel anything other than the flames igniting beneath her waist. 

How the fuck is she not able to get through a family meal without burning with desire? 

She had two good orgasms just an hour ago!

Yes, she has missed him, but this craving feels like another level. 

Sergio walks back to his seat, and as she admires his ass again, it finally dawns on her.

It is her extra horny time of the month.

Extra horny indeed.

The two of them have always had exquisite timing. 

This also explains why she still has so much energy. 

She watches Sergio settle in his chair again, his gaze finding hers.

Slowly, Raquel lets the tip of her tongue slide along her lower lip.

His eyes respond with an intensity that promises passion and ecstasy, and she feels the first definite sign of wetness between her legs.

She winks.

He gives her the tiniest nod before averting his gaze and shifting in his chair uncomfortably.

The knowledge that they are in the same boat only heightens her hunger for him. 

She takes a sip of her chardonnay.

The night cannot come soon enough. 

_This is what anticipation feels like._

❂

Raquel cleans off her second plate with a piece of bread. Never has a meal tasted this good. 

“So, Princesa Elsa, are you going to tell Olaf about your new name?” Sergio asks. 

Paula’s eyes go wide. 

“Yes, yes, yes!” she squeals and disappears from the table.

In an instant, she is back. 

“I need a new sign for the door.”

“What do you mean, corazón?”

“I am Princesa Elsa, and I need a sign for my door that says Princesa Elsa, not Paula.”

“Sa–Sergio made her a sign for her bedroom door,” her mother fills her in. 

“But Sergio made an effort to get you that one, no? Let’s not be ungrateful.”

“I’m not ungrateful. I just want another one,” Paula says, folding her arms across her chest.

“Paula, you know that–”

“I’m Princesa Elsa! I’m Princesa Elsa!” she yells. “If he is Sergio, I am Princesa Elsa!” 

Her yells become louder and louder, and then she is screaming, “I want a new sign for the door! I am Princesa Elsa!”

She is stomping her feet, her face is turning red, and tears are streaming down her innocent face. 

This has nothing to do with a door sign.

“Ven aquí, mi vida,” Raquel says softly, reaching for her daughter and pulling the girl up into her arms.

Paula continues to scream, “I am Princesa Elsa! I am Princesa Elsa!” but she allows herself to be held, as her limbs wrap around Raquel’s body for the third time this afternoon. 

“Ya, ya, corazón,” she soothes, stroking her daughter’s back and walking slowly around the kitchen counter. “Mami ya está aqui.”

She sees Sergio watch them both, a deer in headlights look on his face.

Raquel gives him a little smile, and that seems to reassure him. 

He says something to Mariví that Raquel cannot hear over Paula’s yelling and cry-panting, but he gives her a nod before leaving the room. 

Paula continues to hyperventilate through her sobs. Her little girl just needs to be held.

“Tranquila, mi vida, tranquila …”

Maybe Paula had also sensed that there was a possibility, however tiny, that she might never see her mother again. 

Raquel holds her close, feeling Paula grow heavier in her arms with each lap around the counter. There are only so many more months that she will be able to carry her like this. 

The unexpected thought of Sergio possibly taking over that role for her daughter warms her heart. 

Making her way to the couch on the other side of the room, Raquel sits them both down gingerly.

Paula’s yelling has receded, but she is still devastated as she continues to hiccup cry.

Raquel strokes her hair, speaking softly, “Corazón … why don’t we sit here for a little bit, and you can tell me all the things you told Olaf. It seems like there is a lot that I’ve missed.”

At the mention of Olaf, Paula appears to perk up a little. She extracts her arms from her mother’s neck and tries to smile through her hiccup cries. 

The girl manages a “Let me go get him!” before her feet find the floor and she scampers away. 

Raquel lets herself fall into the sofa. She has not sat on anything remotely this comfortable in over 72 hours and it feels like she is being enveloped by a plush teddy bear. 

She can feel her eyes begin to droop just as Paula runs back holding her journal with both hands. 

Her daughter is no longer crying. Thank goodness for Olaf. 

Raquel opens her arms wide for Paula, who jumps into them with a small squeal. 

They settle into their usual reading-on-the-sofa positions with Paula snuggling into Raquel's side. Her daughter opens the colorful notebook and begins recounting her journey to the island. 

Paula spends a lot of time describing her handler, Nátally. The way her hair shone in the sunlight, the way her flowery dress swished around her knees, and the way she held Paula’s hand without ever letting go. Also, her nails were super pretty. 

Raquel smiles at her daughter's description of the ultra-competent young woman whom she entrusted with her most precious cargo. Paula is clearly smitten with the best handler money can buy, and Raquel cannot blame her. 

Her daughter turns the page and continues reading her notes out loud. She gleefully describes the number of Disney options on her little screen and the cute plane food. The restrooms were not a favorite; they were too small and stuffy. 

But it is Nátally’s storytelling abilities that make the actual journey sound like an afterthought from Paula’s perspective. Her daughter uses all the superlatives in her growing vocabulary to describe in detail the most amazing tale she has ever heard. Aside from Frozen, that is. 

Once upon a time there was a king who ruled an island kingdom far, far away. He was handsome, just, and, above all, intelligent. Thanks to his effort and foresight, the kingdom prospered and the people were happy. Being a good king gave him great satisfaction, and he was content.

Until one day he makes an official royal visit to the Queendom of a Thousand Little Foods, to become acquainted with their newly crowned queen. Her Majesty is beautiful, fair-minded, and, above all, scary smart. She is the first person to realize that the ice-breaker joke that he often uses to mask his shyness is actually a riddle. Which she solves. 

Her Majesty’s intellect leaves him completely enchanted. 

From that moment on, the fearless king dedicates himself to a quest of love, braving ten-page dessert recipes and housetraining a litter of puppies in order to prove himself worthy. 

The tale concludes when the king completes three hundred and sixty-five labors of love, one for each day of the year, thus, earning the trust and affection of the queen and her young daughter. 

Raquel finds herself captivated by Paula’s retelling of the epic tale that started at the airport in Madrid and ended on the boat to Palawan. She can draw only one conclusion. 

Nátally is one soft badass feminist. 

The transcontinental part of the journey concludes with the two of them being the last to disembark the plane. Paula took all the leftover peanut snacks from the empty seats. Nátally appears to have helped, and it is just another reason to be taken by her. 

Raquel feels her eyes start to droop again. 

The sofa feels so comfortable, and she will not be able to stay awake much longer. 

“Pa–Princesa Elsa...” she corrects herself, grateful that some of her brain cells are still working. 

“Mami is feeling very, very tired. I’m going to close my eyes just for a little bit, okay?” she says, giving Paula’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze, as she rests the back of her head against the couch. 

“Yeah! I’ll just be here telling Olaf everything that happened today.” 

Raquel hears Paula whisper excitedly to her notebook, and she drifts off to the comforting sound of her daughter's happiness.

_This is what peace of mind feels like._

❂

Her body finally able to rest, Raquel's subconscious wanders through time and space, fiction and reality. 

She is in a bathtub overlooking a gorgeous canyon, as the sun comes up from behind the gorgeous reddish-brown rock formations. The bath is filled with pinecones, with pine nuts falling out of every cone that she shakes. Her squirrel friends are perched on the side doing exactly the same. A black bear, her loyal companion, sits on a nearby tree stump, playing the classic sunrise violin concerto. A glass of chardonnay appears in her hand, and she revels in the fruity aroma as the liquid trickles down her throat. It pairs deliciously with the pine nuts. 

She turns to her bear friend, and suddenly she's running a 400-meters hurdle race through an airport towards a plane whose doors are closing in slow motion. The hurdles get progressively taller with every meter. Raquel clears each one with effort, but without fear. She can feel the sweat dripping down her face, but the lightness in her feet assures her that she will make the flight. Finally jumping the last hurdle, she runs up the plane steps. As the plane doors close behind her, the bottom of the plane opens and she is free falling from the earth to the sky, in the opposite direction of gravity. It's exhilarating and she never wants it to end. 

She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes.

Her eyelids blink open again to find herself suddenly a little girl, squealing, as papá pushes her swing on her childhood playground, telling her to hold on tight. “Raquel!” he yells, and she yells back, “Papá!”

Then, she is about to take the entrance exam for the police academy, and it is her mother pushing her swing higher and higher. Raquel is nervous, but also really, really excited. 

When the swing makes a full 360-degree spin in the air, Raquel turns around to see Alicia pushing the swing now, laughing and yelling, _Fly, bitch, fly!_ Raquel has never been this reckless before, but she feels safe throwing caution to the wind as long as the wild red-headed woman is by her side. 

The exhilaration feeds into uneasiness as Raquel holds onto the swing with one hand, using the other to grasp onto a rambunctious four-year-old Paula in her lap. They are flying high, but the swing moves erratically through the air and the more her daughter squirms, the more determined Raquel becomes. Her hands hurt from clutching so desperately, but she has no other choice. She will protect her daughter as long as there is breath in her body. 

The swing slows down and Raquel’s eyes move from her middle-aged hands to Sergio, standing in front of her, tall and strong. The swing rocks in a mellow rhythm and she loves it because their lips meet with every sway. The next time her mouth finds his, she hops off. His arms loop around her in the same instant that her legs wrap around his waist and she melts into him. 

Then Raquel is the one nudging at the swing. The seat is occupied by a toddler with black hair and Asian features. The girl's joyful cries are muffled by the wind that plays with Raquel's loose grey hair as she tries to tuck it behind her ears. She feels content, but she is so, so tired. 

Wearing a graduation gown, an adult Paula appears on the other side of the swing. She reaches for the little girl, and says tenderly, "Sydney, corazón, ven aquí." 

Paula picks the girl up and balances her on her hip. 

Then she turns to Raquel and takes her hand. “Let’s go rest, mami.” 

Raquel nods in relief, squeezing her daughter's hand. 

_This is what a full life feels like._

❂

Raquel’s dream fades into reality as the murmur of voices reaches into her dreams, and she slowly stirs awake. 

Her mind tries to focus on the hushed tones. 

She recognizes her mother's words first. "We should let her rest." 

“Why is time always so slow when we wait for mami?” Paula whispers, exasperation lacing every word.

Raquel thinks she hears Sergio sigh. “That is something even I do not know, Princesa Elsa.”

She wills her eyes to flutter open. 

She thinks she fell asleep sitting upright, but now she is sprawled on the couch and someone has covered her with a blanket.

Stretching her limbs, she is pleased to notice that her body feels less tired, but her mouth feels dry.

The family room is dimly lit by a single light fixture, and she can make out the three of them sitting around the dining table doing ... origami?

“Here!” Paula exclaims, then continues in a whisper, “Oops, sorry! I finished another one.” 

“What did you finish, corazón?” 

Three pairs of eyes turn to look at Raquel, and before she can blink Paula is on the couch, giving her the biggest hug. 

“Mi vida,” Raquel says softly, kissing her daughter on the forehead. 

“Have some water, hija,” her mother says motioning to the glass of water on the coffee table. 

Raquel gulps it down thirstily. 

“Did you sleep well?" Sergio asks.

"I did,” she replies, the emotional remnants of her dreams making her smile. 

Pulling herself up onto her elbow, she makes eye contact with him.

With a little nod, he smiles back. 

“I had so many dreams.” 

“Ooooooh!” Paula squeals. “What did you dream of, mami?”

Raquel attempts to grasp at the random images that she remembers, but most drift away before she can catch them. She recalls the feeling of Sergio's reassuring embrace, and she can see Paula in her graduation gown holding her own daughter. The last image is the clearest and she clings to it as the others disappear. 

“You, of course!” she responds, tickling her daughter.

Paula giggles and tries to return the favor, but Raquel hugs her instead, and they both fall back into the couch. 

They cuddle and tickle and giggle and laugh, and nothing else exists. 

_This is what bliss feels like._

❂

Running out of breath from all the laughter, Raquel needs a truce. 

“Paula, mi amo–”

“My new name, mami! Like Sa–like Sergio calls me!”

“Vale, vale, Princesa Elsa,” she gives in, directing a grin at Sergio. 

Sergio nods, a smile tugging at his lips. “Speaking of Princesa Elsa, I have something for you.”

Moving to the living room area, he reaches behind the sofa chair, and he pulls out a large flat object covered in wrapping paper.

He hands it to Paula, as her face lights up. 

Raquel watches as Paula places the item on her lap and proceeds to rip through the colorful wrapping paper. 

It is a wooden door sign that spells _ELSA_ , each capital letter painted in a different color.

Raquel can swear that her heart stops beating for a moment at this unexpected effort on Sergio’s part. And when it starts beating again, her heart swells with so much love. 

She looks to Paula, but instead of ecstatic, her daughter’s eyes shift between Raquel and Sergio and back again. She has not uttered a single sound.

“You don’t like it?” Raquel asks.

“It’s not that …” Paula responds, and Raquel can see her eyes start to shimmer. 

“Did I spell it wrong?” Sergio asks, rambling nervously, “Because I checked multiple websites, in different languages.”

Paula’s only response is to shake her head vigorously.

“You have to use words, mi vida,” Raquel says gently. “We’re not mind readers.” She nudges her daughter’s shoulder in encouragement. 

Paula responds in a whisper, “It doesn’t say _princesa_.” She is biting her lower lip, trying to hold it together and not break into sobs.

She sees Sergio’s shoulders slump.

Raquel’s mind scrambles to find a way to diffuse both their disappointments without appearing to take anyone’s side. 

A part of her just wants to laugh at the ridiculousness of this whole situation, but she chooses the other part of her that feels empathy for their tender souls. 

“Okay, Princesa Elsa, I think that we’ve all had a big day today. Why don’t you show me your room, while abuela makes some chamomile tea so we can all get a good night’s sleep?”

Paula nods solemnly, as Mariví hurries to the kitchen. 

Bless her mother for always being so solicitous. 

“And what do we say to Sergio?”

“Gracias, Sergio,” Paula says, her head still hanging low. 

Sergio seems so dejected that Raquel feels the need to comfort him too, but she cannot do both at the same time. 

She settles on blowing him a kiss for his effort, and he gives her an almost imperceptible nod. It is barely there, but it _is_ there, and that is good enough for now. 

This is going to be a steep learning curve for them all. 

Raquel reluctantly pushes herself off the cozy sofa. 

“Do you think we have time to stop by the bathroom?” she asks Paula, in an effort to dispel the heaviness in the atmosphere.

Thankfully it works because the expression on Paula’s face changes from demoralized to amused. 

“When you have to go, you have to go, _but_ in the right place,” she recites happily, echoing the phrase common in their household, dating back to Paula’s potty training days. 

She can see Sergio look at them with mild curiosity. 

Imagining all the things that he will have to get used to inexplicably makes Raquel chuckle, which makes Paula giggle, and just like that the air feels lighter. 

Holding Olaf in one hand and Paula’s hand in the other, Raquel gives Sergio one last smile before she lets her daughter lead them out of the room. 

_This is what adjusting feels like._

❂

Entering Paula’s room feels like setting foot into the frosty wonderland of a snow princess. 

Winter-themed decal stickers cover the wooden walls, and the large bamboo canopy bed is a shrine to Frozen. 

They moved to a tropical paradise, and yet her daughter yearns for the north pole. 

Raquel had not been sure if this color scheme would combine well with the style of their new home, but Sergio took their haphazard sketch on a restaurant napkin and somehow made it happen in the most beautiful way. 

Like a furniture store salesperson, Paula takes Raquel through every element of her bedroom. She opens every dresser drawer with neatly folded clothes and brushes her fingers against every book on her bookshelf. She slides her hand proudly across her desk surface, the Frozen characters smiling at them from beneath the desk pad. She even shows Raquel every brightness level of her bedside lamp. 

Raquel _ooh’s_ and _ah’s_ , feeling such joyful relief at seeing her daughter’s eyes full of wonder at this new environment that she has been dragged into. 

Paula’s demonstration concludes with the flip of a switch that illuminates the pink canopy. 

The fairy lights are a surprise to Raquel, and for a moment, she is speechless. 

Her daughter finally has the room that she has always wanted. 

“So pretty!” Paula swoons.

Remembering that she is still holding the journal, Raquel gestures to Paula. “Wanna tell me what else you told Olaf?”

“Yessssssss!”

Climbing onto the bed, Raquel sits up against the Frozen-themed pillows, while Paula nestles between her legs, her back leaning into Raquel’s chest. 

Paula’s knees face the ceiling so she can rest the notebook on her thighs, and Raquel cannot help but embrace her daughter tightly.

“Mamiiiiiiii, you’re squishing me,” Paula complains through giggles.

“I can’t help it, I’m so happy to be here with you.” 

She giggles again. “I’m happy too. But I have to tell you about the rest of my trip.” 

Raquel huffs in jest, “Fine.”

Paula giggles again, and opens the journal, flipping to the page where they left off. 

She recounts the journey from Manila airport to Palawan, and her reunion with her grandmother at the beach. Nátally had accompanied them both to the house before leaving. 

Raquel recalls that the handler’s mission was complete only once she had personally delivered Paula to Sergio. 

Based on what her daughter told Olaf, Sergio and Paula’s reunion appears to have been uneventful. They smiled at each other and shook hands, and after lunch, Sergio took her to see her bedroom, explaining every piece of furniture to her. 

Raquel chuckles. She can picture Sergio perfectly, as he explains every single detail of the room to Paula. It would have been as much a feature of his nervousness as his meticulousness, and it is one of the many things she finds endearing about him. 

Then Paula puts the notebook aside. “I forgot to tell you, mami …” 

She shifts to stand up on the bed. “… even the bed is better here!” 

Paula proceeds to show her by jumping up and down on the very supple mattress. 

Sergio had insisted on overseeing the choice of mattresses, because he had done _research_. 

Raquel cannot decide whether this mattress is going to be his best decision or his worst. 

“Come on, mami, come on!”

Raquel’s body protests, but she does not feel like saying no to her daughter today. 

She pulls herself up, letting her knees bend and her feet spring upward in a few tiny hops. 

The bed is indeed bouncy. 

It is contagious because suddenly they are both jumping up and down. 

Gripping each other’s hands, their shrieks echo across the room, and Raquel has to admit that this was not the worst idea. Not by a long shot. 

In fact, this is exactly the kind of fun she has been missing.

_This is what freedom feels like._

❂

“It’s so lovely to hear you both laugh,” Mariví says, walking into the bedroom with a cup of chamomile tea. 

“Join us, abuela!” 

“Oh, I don’t know, cariño.”

“C’mon!” Paula insists. “You said today is a special day.” 

Paula’s little appeal to emotion works because Mariví deposits the teacup on the bedside table before slipping out of her sandals.

Raquel and Paula help her up onto the bed, and then the three of them are jumping up and down on the large bedcover featuring Elsa and Anna. 

They hold onto each other, while trying to breathe through fits of giggles and laughter.

Indeed, this mattress was the best decision ever.

Sergio is a genius. 

Raquel admires the age-appropriate ways in which each of their bodies move, and yet, they are all squealing with the same delight and abandon. 

_This is what family feels like._

❂

The three of them are completely lost in the moment that no one hears Sergio approach. 

The first time that Raquel catches a glimpse of him through the canopy curtains, he is looking at the semi-open door and before she can call out his name he is already walking away. 

Paula has also noticed because she jumps off the bed, and landing on the floor like a cat with nine lives, she runs to the door. 

Paula considers the front of the door for a few moments before running through the doorframe, bellowing, “SALVAAAAAAA! I mean, SERGIOOOOOOOOO!”

Sergio turns around, just as Paula crashes into him. 

Raquel and her mother stealthily move into seated positions on the bed, keen to observe the exchange just beyond the doorframe. 

Sergio picks Paula up effortlessly, and she emits incomprehensible sounds of joy.

“You like it?” he asks, even though his face says that he already knows the answer.

“I love it! I love it!” she shrieks, flinging her arms around his neck. “Gracias! Gracias! Gracias!” 

She punctures every _gracias_ with a kiss on his bearded cheeks, like she does when she is particularly grateful to someone in the family.

Emotions bubble up inside Raquel, and a knot forms in her throat. 

She forces herself to blink quickly, as much to deter tears as to immortalize this precious moment between Sergio and Paula. 

Her heart cannot contain all this love. 

_This is what her new family feels like._

❂

Sergio walks back through the doorframe, stopping at the door when Paula’s fingers reach to touch it. 

“It’s perfect,” she says with a dreamy sigh. “You’re the best!” 

She covers his face with kisses again. 

Sergio is thrilled beyond words because his grin spreads from ear to ear, and joy radiates from his entire being. 

Raquel thinks she even sees his body sway a little with Paula in his arms. 

She feels a flush of happiness at witnessing the affection that has developed between them in her brief absence. 

She wants to observe their joy in its uninterrupted form, but at the same time she also wants to join them. 

It is a strange feeling of ambivalence, but it is just another new experience that Sergio brings to her life.

Her mother nudges her gently, and Raquel goes with the second option.

Paula is touching the sign again, and as Raquel approaches, she sees that the _ELSA_ letters are the same as earlier. 

When Paula swoons again and withdraws her hand, Raquel notices that above the four letters is a golden crown, decorated with sparkly jewels. 

Her breath catches.

Sergio’s persistent attempts to make her daughter happy move her to the very core of her being.

“It’s wonderful,” she whispers. 

Sergio’s grin turns into a shy smile. He treasures her feedback as much as Paula’s. 

Raquel, perhaps better than anyone, knows how important it is to feel valued, especially for the little things. 

Perhaps this is one way to never take each other for granted. 

Because she never wants to take Sergio for granted. 

She wants to do things differently with him. 

She wants to be better with him. 

For him. 

For her family. 

For herself. 

_This is what appreciating feels like._

❂

“Your mattress research appears to have paid off,” she says.

“Gracias.” His tone gives nothing away, but his eyes shine.

“I wonder if I will like ours,” she teases.

“Your bed is not as bouncy, mami!”

“Oh, that’s a shame,” she says, pretending to be disappointed before turning to Sergio. “Maybe you should give Paula’s bed a try.” 

“Sergio already knows. He was the one who showed me,” Paula informs her.

“Showed you?” 

Still holding onto his neck with one hand, Paula gestures excitedly with the other. 

“Yes! We jumped yesterday after lunch!” 

“We?”

“Yes, _we_ , mami!” she yells, clearly impatient with Raquel’s disbelief.

Sergio just shrugs his shoulders. 

For a moment, Raquel finds herself speechless. Did he really?

“I guess we all enjoy bouncy beds,” she finally says.

“We do, we dooooooo!” Paula shrieks, before a yawn completely overtakes her face.

“It has been a long day, corazón. Shall we start getting ready for bed?”

Paula reaches for her new door sign once again, sighing happily as she traces the shape of the crown with her fingertips. “ _Now_ I can sleep.”

Her daughter sure has a flair for the dramatic. 

“How about a nice, warm shower before bed, Princesa Elsa?” 

“Yessssss! Just like you and Sergio before lunch.”

Sergio emits an incomprehensible choking sound, as Mariví chuckles behind them. 

Raquel bites her own cheek to keep from exploding with laughter. 

“Are you okay, Sergio?” Paula asks with concern, her body having tilted with his at the unexpected reaction. 

He straightens and coughs. “Mhm. Just something in my throat.” 

Raquel is hoping for something in her own throat very soon.

Paula places another kiss on Sergio’s beard before turning to Raquel and reaching her arms out. 

Sergio takes a step closer to hand her over. 

The girl’s limbs wrap around Raquel’s body, as her face snuggles into her mother’s neck. 

The exchange complete, Sergio pats Paula reassuringly on the shoulder, making Raquel smile.

She is surprised just how effortless sharing her daughter with Sergio feels. 

She knows much of it is to Paula’s credit for having such an open heart, and to Sergio’s credit for trying hard, but maybe, just maybe, this feeling of ease is also a sign of smooth sailing ahead for their new family.

Sergio’s hand withdraws awkwardly from Paula’s shoulder, and when Raquel looks up at him, she can see a pinkish hue creep into his cheeks.

He is trying so very hard. 

Has she known any other man who would work this hard to fight against every unsentimental habit that he has developed over four decades? 

She feels a tap on her arm. 

“Let’s get Paulita ready for bed before she falls asleep in your arms.”

Paula lifts her head to say something, but Sergio speaks first.

“Buenas noches, Princesa Elsa.”

Paula turns to him with a smile. “Buenas noches, Sergio.”

Raquel’s heart soars.

Everything is so wonderful today.

 _He_ has helped make everything so wonderful. 

She drops one hand to her side, letting her fingers brush across the back of his hand. 

His lips curve ever so slightly, and his palm turns to hers.

Their hands play with each other tenderly, skin grazing against skin, fingers tangling and untangling.

She sees his eyes droop just before she lets her own eyes close for a moment.

Her family is safe, and they are all together, protected by the man she loves. 

A man who _shows_ his love for her in every little thing that he does. 

She made the right choice. 

She made the only choice. 

She made the happy choice. 

_This is what happiness feels like._

❂

This is happiness.

❂❂❂

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, love any and all thoughts, comments, reviews, feedback, concrit, emojicrit, etc.
> 
> Feel free to reach out to me on Twitter at [@SerqueInfinitua](https://twitter.com/SerqueInfinitua)
> 
> Thank you for your continued interest in this story ♡♡♡


	4. Muscles of the Gluteal Region

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
> ◉
> 
>   
> ~ Raquel feels loved. ~ 
> 
>   
> ◉
> 
>   
>  [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/190672350@N04/shares/6H09E6/in/dateposted-public/)   
>    
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your interest in this story! Thank you so much for your comments, kudos, and tweets! It makes my heart flutter to see how much we all want the Serquel family to be fluffy and happy! ♡ You motivate me to keep writing! ♡♡♡
> 
>   
> 
> 
> I'm a little bit nervous (actually a lot) about posting these two chapters, but this is just how I currently see them. 
> 
>   
>   
> ~ **This is a slow burn chapter** ~  
> If you are in a rush, feel free to go to chapter 5. 
> 
>   
> Music to play while you're reading: [YouTube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ct45N6uRjhY) [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1Tev7XKLCr7Rs7YZPfkrfn)
> 
>   
>   
>   
> Dedicated to **B** , who asked for this after chapter one, and loves long updates.  
>  **M** —thank you. 
> 
>   
> As always, all feedback is welcome ♡  
> Tell me what you would like more of, and I will be sure to include it in future chapters :D  
> If you spot any errors, I would appreciate so much if you could drop me a line.
> 
>   
> You can find me on Twitter at [@SerqueInfinitua](https://twitter.com/SerqueInfinitua)

◉

Flushing the toilet, Raquel moves to the sink to wash her hands.

She observes herself in the mirror. 

She wishes she looked less tired, but there is not much she can do about it now except go to sleep right away, and there is zero percent chance of that happening.

And even if she knew where to find her makeup, she does not want to wear any to bed. She is expecting a very messy night. The messier the better. 

This reminds her, she needs to drink some water. She needs to stay hydrated for what is to come. 

A thrill runs through her body. 

It is going to be one hell of a night. 

Downing a glass full of water, her eyes survey the decadent bathroom, and she notices a new toothbrush, obviously meant for her. 

Smiling, she proceeds to brush her teeth. 

Glancing across the cabinets, she sees Sergio’s cologne sitting next to his beard oil on the open shelf. For a moment she considers surprising him, but then thinks better of it. She wants his mouth to be free to go literally anywhere tonight. 

She bows her head to rinse her mouth, and then she splashes her face, the cool water refreshing her heated skin. 

Drying her face, she looks at the mirror again, nudging her eyebrow hairs with her fingers so they do not stick to her damp skin. 

Pinching her cheeks and biting her lips, she admires the natural red creep into her face. 

She is satisfied with the improvements, but she knows that Sergio will not care either way. 

She must have looked like a complete mess earlier at the beach and later after her nap, but the underlying hunger in his eyes has not wavered since the moment he laid eyes on her. 

She smiles and her reflection smiles back.

Their night is finally here. 

◉

Stepping out of the bathroom, Raquel lets her eyes roam across the beautiful bedroom.

 _Their_ bedroom. 

Everything feels _theirs_ now. 

Everything _is_ theirs now. 

The wall-sized window is on the opposite end, its glass doors almost fully closed, save for a small crack that allows the air to circulate and dance with the curtains. Raquel marvels at how the king-sized canopy bed and its linen fabrics blend perfectly into the airy vibe of the space. 

There is a large closet to her left, and feeling curious, she walks over, pulling its doors open. 

Various dresses featuring local patterns hang on one side of the closet– _her_ side.

She admires each item, remembering the moments she bought them during her previous visit. 

Most of them, she had picked out with him by her side. 

She smiles, looking at one that Sergio seemed to like in particular. 

Or maybe that was just his favorite one to take off her.

Maybe she will wear that one tomorrow. 

The dresses give way to her tops and trousers. She loves the light fabrics, and the prospect of wearing them for the rest of her life feels incredibly freeing. 

There are a few more outfits of similar style and fabric, but Raquel does not recognize them. 

They are pretty, and she will no doubt enjoy wearing them, but it is Sergio’s thoughtfulness to buy them for her that wins her over. 

His attention to detail reigns supreme.

Looking to Sergio’s side of the closet, she sees casual shirts and trousers, with a few dress shirts and suits. 

Raquel lets her fingertips graze along the linen and cotton materials, and when she reaches the dress attire, she pulls out the muted cream-colored suit jacket.

The one he wore on the first day she arrived to Palawan.

Lifting it to her face, she closes her eyes and inhales his familiar scent.

Her previous relationship may have left her bruised and battered and utterly heartbroken, but apparently, the hopeless romantic inside of her is still alive and well. 

She exhales and inhales again. 

He smells like hope.

◉

Moving over to the bed, Raquel undoes the covers, crumples up the sheets, and piles the pillows on top of each other. She proceeds to release the canopy curtains tied to each bedpost.

Walking to the bedroom door, she turns her back to it in order to observe the bed from that angle. 

She does not feel comfortable sleeping with a locked door in case of emergency, but she also wants to avoid killing her own spontaneity with the mental load of constant locking and unlocking. When she and Sergio want to be extra wild, they can always put that debauched bathroom to good use. 

She kneels to approximate Paula’s height. 

With the curtains closed, it is impossible to see through the fabric.

The switches off the light to check if the same is true in the dark. 

Determining that it is, she flips the switch again, and the warm light of the wall lamps comes back on. 

Relieved but surprised, Raquel walks back to the canopy. 

Inspecting the curtains more closely, she notices that the side of the bed closer to the door has a triple layer of fabric, while the side of the bed facing the window is a single transparent piece of linen. 

A fucking genius. 

The man has literally thought of everything. 

_Her_ man. 

◉

Unable to decide whether to go look for Sergio or lounge around waiting for him, she opts to browse through the rest of the furniture to keep herself occupied. 

She crosses the room to the long wooden dresser.

Opening the first drawer to her right, she sees Sergio’s meticulously organized underwear and socks. The second drawer has his pyjamas, and the third drawer is curiously empty.

Following the closet configuration, the left side of the dresser is hers. The first drawer has all the underwear, bras, and socks that she left behind when she returned to Madrid. The second drawer has her pyjamas, and the third drawer is full of miscellaneous undergarments, such as pantyhose, waist shapewear, and double-sided tape. 

Chuckling, she remembers how ridiculously nervous she had felt packing for Palawan the first time around. Instead of trying to rationally decide which items she might actually need, she found it easier to just pack one of everything. Somehow packing boob tape, which she had only used once in her entire life, had made sense at the time. She had no idea what to expect, and she had wanted to be ready for anything and everything. 

Packing for this time around had been a completely different experience, in more ways than one.

Pushing the last drawer shut, she doubts she will be using anything from it any time soon, but it is there if she needs it.

Looking around the room again, she proceeds to walk past one of the chairs and the bedroom door, to inspect the bamboo-inspired rectangular credenza opposite the foot of the bed. 

On top of it lies a folded note she had not seen earlier. 

She recognizes his handwriting.

_Raquel_

Opening it, she reads.

_If you’re ready before I return, look inside._

Immediately curious, she crouches in front of the credenza, sliding its right side open. 

On the top shelf, there are two sets of incense sticks and one long wooden box.

She sits cross-legged on the floor, examining the items. 

Bringing the paper packaging to her nose, she inhales the scent. 

Sandalwood.

She does the same with the other one.

Jasmine.

A box of matches sits next to the wooden box. 

Of course.

She smiles. 

The middle shelf is all tealights stacked on top of each other, while candle holders fill the bottom shelf.

Turning one of the empty candle holders in her hands, she admires the intricate patterns of the hexagonal lantern. The amber-colored glass is held together by decorative metal edges, and the enclosed design makes them fireproof. Or as fireproof as using real candles can be. 

Of course Sergio would put their safety above all else.

And the safety of this dream home. 

_Their_ dream home.

Of course. 

He leaves nothing to chance. 

◉

The wooden box turns out to be an incense tower.

Raquel has never used one before, but it seems fairly straightforward. 

Placing the base of the tower on the dresser, Raquel fits two incense sticks in two of the four designated holes. She sets them alight and waits a few moments before blowing out the flame. 

Carefully, she slides the wooden top over and around the burning sticks, and it reminds her of sliding her palm down his hard length. 

Dios. Where the hell is Sergio? 

She has half a mind to tell him that being absent after Paula’s bedtime during her extra horny time of the month is completely unacceptable. 

Sighing, she lets herself admire the faint smoke, as it escapes through the beautifully carved openings in the wood. 

The scent will reach every corner of the room without being too close to the bed.

Perfect.

Moving back to the credenza, Raquel counts fifteen lanterns and lines up as many tealights on top of the cabinet.

As she lights each candle, she places it in a lantern, securing the metal latch of each little amber door with care. 

She hears a gentle knock at the door. 

She looks up but before she can respond, the door opens slowly, and Sergio sticks his head inside.

Raquel smiles. “You don’t need to knock.”

“I didn’t want to startle you,” he says, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.

Lighting the last candle, she blows the matchstick out, and places the tealight in the remaining lantern.

She turns to him, finding Sergio already by her side. 

Fingertips brush against her upper arm, and her gaze meets his.

The eyes behind his nerdy glasses are warm and hungry, and it is impossible not to lose herself in them. 

Her hands find the nape of his neck, as his fingers slide around her waist. 

Their mouths meet, and he is hot and soft and deft and keen and everything that she wants in this moment. 

Drawing her upper lip in, his short nails scrape at the small of her back through her thin dress, and a little shiver runs up her spine. 

It is not a slow kiss by any means, but it is also not a frantic one either. 

It is like savoring a second serving of pollo en salsa. She wants to take her time, but she is not about to let it get cold. 

She wants to enjoy it with every fiber of her being. 

Sighing into his mouth, her whole body relaxes into his, and she feels the invisible but heavy weight come off her shoulders.

Everything is easier with him. 

He seems to understand because his hands tighten around her waist, cocooning her in his strong embrace. 

Feeling safe and unrushed by his gentle affection, she lets her body express the extent of her appreciation for the delectable ways in which he has overwhelmed her senses today.

·

His desire tastes like chardonnay, his tongue enticing her as it slides along her lips.

So she slips into his mouth, and he makes space for her.

He has welcomed her into his life, and in his own unique way, into his heart. 

·

His attentiveness feels like three layers of canopy curtains between her fingertips. 

So she grips his shirt to pull him closer, and his hands slip down to cup her backside. 

She can feel him pressed against her stomach, promising loving ecstasy in the hours ahead. 

·

His effort has the fragrance of sandalwood.

So she breaks the kiss to catch her breath, and she inhales Sergio’s delightful scent combined with the incense. 

His lips find hers again, and this time he glides into her mouth. 

·

His eagerness springs like Paula’s bouncy mattress. 

So she reaches up on her tiptoes to nuzzle his nose, suckling his tongue with all her horny enthusiasm.

His face fuses into hers, and she can no longer tell where she ends and he begins.

·

His willingness to do whatever is needed echoes in the words _Princesa Elsa_. 

So she murmurs, “Sergio, Sergio,” between kisses. 

“Raquel.” 

Her name is a poem on her lips. 

·

His dedication looks like a golden crown with sparkly jewels. 

So she opens her eyes, and they lock with his. 

All of her dreams come alive in his gaze.

·

He is what she has been missing her whole life.

◉

She rubs her chin absentmindedly, and then she feels Sergio gently disentangle himself from her. 

“Wait,” he says, before turning on his heels and disappearing into the bathroom, leaving her baffled.

He returns a few moments later with a small jar in his hands.

“This should help with the beard burn.”

She looks at the little jar and then at him, and then back at the item he places on the credenza. 

Forget the beard burn. It feels like every piece of her heart that has ever been hurt is being healed. 

By this jar, _and_ the canopy, _and_ the sparkly crown, _and_ the lanterns, _and_ the chicken farm, _and_ the shampoo, _and_ the clothes, _and everything_. 

His every thoughtful act is a sliver of ointment applied to her deepest emotional scars. 

She opens her mouth, but the words are stuck in her throat. 

Instead, she lets her gaze travel across his beard. 

She uses both hands to caress the sides of his neck, scratching gently at the short, dark hairs.

He hums. 

Her palms slide up his cheeks and she cups his face, reveling in the feel of his full beard against her skin. 

Her gaze lifts to find his warm, kind eyes on her. 

What has she done to deserve him?

Everything suddenly feels too much, and she is not sure that she has the capacity to process so many emotions all at once. 

Despite her efforts to hide it, he can tell that something is off because he tries to explain. 

“You said not to shave it off, so I found this and a special beard oil th–”

“Shhhh.” 

Placing a finger on his lips, she lifts herself onto her tiptoes to give him a chaste kiss on his confused mouth. 

Then her heels find the floor again, and her arms twine around his waist, as she buries her face in his chest.

“Just … give me a moment.”

He obliges her in an instant, cocooning her with his whole body again. 

She has missed this so much that her eyes begin to fog. 

Blinking away the tears that form, she concentrates on the man in her arms.

Her fingers slip beneath his shirt, and his skin feels soft under her touch.

She takes a deep breath, inhaling the fragrance of his masculine body. 

His steady heartbeat is calming, and his hot palms, flat against her back, are grounding. 

She feels him kiss and nuzzle her hair over and over again, and the methodic pattern soothes her. 

“Everything is just … too perfect,” she whispers, hating that it sounds like a complaint. 

He does not miss a beat. 

“You came and made it perfect.”

Her heart swells.

He feels it too. 

He holds her until she is ready.

◉

Ensconced in his embrace, the swirl of emotions is now a gentle breeze, and she feels like herself again.

She lifts her head from his chest, and their eyes meet. 

“How are you feeling?” he whispers.

“Perfect,” she says. “But not too perfect.”

“I’m glad.”

◉

Taking in her surroundings again and noticing the dresser behind him, she decides to resolve a curiosity from earlier.

“Why is the last drawer of your side of the dresser empty?”

“In case you need more space.”

She raises her eyebrow. “Is that a stereotype I’m hearing?”

“No,” he says, appearing slightly puzzled. “I wasn’t sure how many drawers you usually use, and I want you to have as much space as you need.” 

Dios. He is doing it again. 

Applying another layer of ointment to the traumas in her soul. 

Nuzzling his chin, she lets the scratchy contact root her to the present. 

“Maybe we can get more lanterns and keep them there,” she muses out loud.

His face lights up. “You like them?” 

“They are so lovely.”

She moves on to nuzzle his cheek, humming happily as her fingertips trace the skin along his waistband.

His lips brush against her temple. 

“I see you picked the sandalwood.”

She hums. “It’s wonderful, isn’t it?”

His hand strokes her lower back soothingly.

“Did you know that sandalwood is a natural aphrodisiac?”

She chuckles. Of course he would know that.

“Do you think we _need_ an aphrodisiac?”

She punctures her question by squeezing his ass tightly. 

Startled, he squirms. 

“Well, I guess not.”

“You guess?” 

She squeezes his other buttock. 

This time, instead of squirming he smiles, as she feels his fingers slide down to squeeze her own ass.

She giggles, giving his backside a little slap. 

Growling, his lips and teeth graze her cheek.

She growls back, but it comes out comical.

And suddenly she is laughing, unable to control the mirth bubbling inside, as her forehead drops to his chest.

He joins her soon after, and then they are both cackling in each other’s arms, trying not to fall over. 

◉

“I almost forgot,” Sergio murmurs, extracting one arm from their tangled bodies and reaching inside the open shelf. 

A gentle piano melody fills the room. 

She cannot name the song, but the notes are familiar and pleasing to the ear.

The atmosphere immediately shifts, as the romantic tinge of the music infuses every atom of air. 

He really is going all out. 

And it is working. 

She is ready to start showing him just how much she loves him. 

Cupping his face again, she leans in for another kiss. 

But he places his palms over her hands, and their foreheads touch instead. 

“The injections are in the bathroom,” he says softly, “… if you want to do it now.”

She had purposefully avoided getting a new birth control prescription in Spain, preferring to leave Alberto and the authorities with as little information as possible. But that also meant she had to deal with it now. 

“The sooner the better, right?”

Smiling, he drops a kiss on each of her palms before returning their hands to their sides. 

As they walk to the bathroom, a few of his fingers tangle with hers.

◉

Leaning her hip against the sink, Raquel watches him open the left-side cabinet and pull out cotton pads, a small bottle, and two paper boxes.

“Would you like me to do it or do you prefer to do it yourself?”

His tone is so neutral that she cannot tell which option he favors. 

She decides to ask for what she wants.

“Could you?”

“Of course.”

He pulls out the instruction insert from the bigger box, unfolds it, and quickly scans the pictures and the text.

Washing his hands, he turns to her. 

“Belly, arm, or upper thigh?” 

“Belly.”

She has never done this before, but she wants her arms and thighs to be free for him to grab in the hours ahead. 

As he adds alcohol to the pad, she pulls up her airy white dress and holds it crumpled against her chest with both hands.

He rubs the wet cotton generously along her upper abdomen, above her navel. 

The sensation is cool on her skin, teasing out a few goosebumps.

He pulls out a small pouch from the box and rips it open. 

“It’s so small,” she says. 

The device cannot be longer than her fingers. 

Holding it by the narrow end, Sergio shakes it until the small amount of liquid inside the spherical reservoir has mixed well.

He inspects the device visually, and then he briefly consults the instructions again. 

Flipping the device upside down and holding it by its middle, he uses the other hand to push the cap down and activate the injection.

When his eyes move to her bare torso, he pauses for a moment.

He steps back and kneels before her.

“So I can see better.”

He is so _very_ serious, and focused, and so Sergio-like about this whole thing. 

It is such a relief to let someone else take the reins and wholeheartedly trust that they will do a good job. 

He removes the cap, and the needle is even shorter than she expected. Awesome.

With his left hand, he places two fingers just above her navel. 

“Here?”

“Maybe a little bit to the left?”

“My left or your left?” 

She smiles. “Mine.”

His fingers move to the upper side of her left abdomen and his thumb and fingers generously pinch at her skin, creating a little tent. 

“Ready?”

As ready as she will ever be. 

Confirming with a hum, she watches him lift his right elbow up high and insert the needle at a downward angle. 

She feels a prick and a twinge of pain, but his movements are smooth and steady, as he presses the reservoir to push the solution into her body.

And already he is pulling the needle out and gently releasing her skin.

“Done,” he says, and she thinks she can hear relief in his voice. 

She exhales, unaware that she had been holding her breath. 

It was more like sharp discomfort than actual pain, and yet her mind had run wild with apprehension. As if she had not already pierced her skin multiple times, and even been excited to do so.

She smiles to herself. This will be a breeze to repeat in three months’ time. And if it does anything super weird to her mood or her period, she can stop anytime.

Reviewing the instructions again from his kneeling position, he disposes of the device in the provided puncture-proof container. 

“It says not to rub the area.”

“Got it.”

“And just in case …” he says, opening another wrapper.

Removing the backing off a small adhesive bandage, he places it carefully on her abdomen. 

His fingers drift to her hips, and then he leans in, grazing the skin around the band aid with the gentlest of kisses.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. 

She lets her hand run through his hair, matching his tender touch.

◉

Her dress falls around her again, as she helps him stand up. 

“How long do we wait?” she asks.

“Seven days, if you’re not menstruating.” 

She smiles. He has learned the whole patient package insert by heart.

Seven days until the shot becomes effective and back-up contraception becomes unnecessary. 

“Think we can do it?” she jokes. 

He nods and smiles at her reassuringly, and then, out of the blue, he averts his gaze.

She finds his evasive maneuvers quite endearing, but at times like these, she really wishes she could read his mind. 

“Hmm?”

He shakes his head lightly. “Just a … thought.”

She raises her eyebrow.

He chuckles awkwardly. 

He leans closer, his beard brushing against her cheek as he whispers.

“It’s a little bit strange, but … when I’m with you, it feels like I can do … anything.”

Her heart pulses in her chest. 

How could this _not_ be love?

Lifting her chin to his chest so he can hear her better, her fingers graze up and down his back, as she responds. 

“It’s not strange at all.”

His whole body relaxes in her arms. 

◉

“Thank you for giving me the injection, and for doing all this with me,” she says with a small smile. 

Raquel is not ready to have another child right now, and maybe she will never be ready. Maybe _they_ will never be ready. And even if they are, maybe her body will not be. 

Being international fugitives certainly adds layers of complexity to the prospect. 

She may not know what her future holds, but it is a great comfort to be with a partner who partakes in the responsibility for contraception with such care, even if he cannot take the injection for her.

His behavior only confirms her gut feeling: if she ever wanted another child, she would only want one with him. 

He has utterly ruined her for anyone else. 

This sweet, intelligent, stunning man waited for her for a year. 

What kind of fairytale is she living in?

She feels his hands loop gently around her waist, nuzzling her hair. 

His response is a whisper. 

“Estoy contigo.”

◉

He takes his time rearranging the items back into the cabinet, in his own pedantic way. 

She missed this too. Just observing him while he focused intently on a simple task. Like making the bed. Or brushing his teeth.

Turning to her again, he says, “And just to be absolutely safe, I've scheduled an STI test, so I’ll have those results within the seven days.”

She tilts her head to the side. 

“I’m not sure it works that way, Sergio.”

He looks at her in surprise. 

“Why?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s only _absolutely_ safe if we both get tested.”

“Well, yes, of course,” he stutters, adjusting his glasses. “I didn’t want to just assume … but I also didn’t want to insinuate in _any way_ that …”

His voice trails off, as he looks away and a pinkish hue pervades his cheeks.

He is so endearing when he is flustered. 

She leans into his shoulder, whispering sultrily.

“I can’t decide if I should be offended or turned on right now.”

“Maybe … both?” he responds cautiously. 

She looks at him again. “Hm?”

“The female experience is full of dualities.”

“It is?” 

He shrugs. “It’s what Roxane Gay says.”

She laughs.

“Is it not true?”

“Actually, it’s very, very true. Welcome to my life.”

He chuckles with her.

Her hands find his fingers, and she gives them a gentle squeeze.

“So, seven days,” she says.

He nods. “And an STI test.”

“Tests.”

“Tests. Plural,” he confirms, gently tugging her closer to rest his forehead on hers. “How do you feel about finishing up with the lanterns while I get ready here?”

She hums, nodding energetically. 

Releasing him reluctantly, she walks out into the bedroom, murmuring to herself, “You better hurry.”

It is not intended for him, but he must have heard anyways because she hears him call out her name.

“Raquel …” 

She feels his fingers reach for hers, and when he tugs at her hand, she half-spins to face him.

It is not exactly a dance move, but it is also not _not_ a dance move. 

She can feel her face break into a grin.

Meeting his gaze, he looks a little goofy but exhilarated, his eyes dark with desire. 

Will he ever cease to surprise her? 

Confidently, he steps closer, as his fingers slide into her hair with urgency. 

Cradling her head, his mouth descends on hers. 

His ardor is commanding and giving, and she receives him readily.

His tongue twirls and swirls within the privacy of her welcoming mouth, as he devours her with no inhibitions.

Pressing and nipping and sucking and rubbing, his lips dance with hers in a way his body never would in a nightclub.

She revels in the effusiveness of his strokes and nuzzles, the scrape of his facial hair against her skin merely a reminder that he is not a dream. 

Raquel matches every throaty moan and every tilt of his head, her body blossoming like a flower in the hot summer rain. 

Sergio is making love to her mouth, and she never wants him to stop. 

Her skin is feverish against his, and she can feel the heat pool between her legs. 

Trembling and dizzy from his intoxicating assault on her senses, she clings onto his shoulders as the only solid thing in her swaying world. 

Dios! She wants him more than she has ever wanted anyone in her entire life. 

Her knees feel just about ready to give out when he tears his mouth from hers without warning.

“I will,” he promises and strides away just like he came.

Shocked and breathless, she is left leaning against the dresser, looking after him as she tries to gather her bearings.

Her heart pounds wildly against her chest. 

Dualities can be magical.

◉

Switching off the main bedroom light, Raquel sprinkles the shining lanterns throughout the room. 

Candlelight spills gently across the walls in intricate shapes, giving the space a romantic glow. 

She slides the credenza door shut, and picking up the little jar Sergio gave her, she moves to the bed. Rearranging the pillows and covers from her experiment earlier, she sits on the left side of the bed.

Unscrewing the cap she dips her middle finger into the jar, and she applies the balm across her chin and above her lip.

It is not chafed, but her skin feels tender, and if she can kiss him all she wants _and_ avoid a repeat of beard burn, all the better. Because not kissing him is not an option. 

Memories of their very first night in Palawan float into her mind. 

They had been like wild animals in heat. 

She wants him just as much as she did that day, but something about tonight feels different.

Tonight _is_ different.

There is a certainty in the air.

He is her certainty. 

◉

Sergio returns from the bathroom with a glass of water.

“For when you get thirsty.” 

He is so considerate. “Gracias.”

He places it on the bedside table, and she can see his lips curl up a little when he sees the little jar.

Raquel’s eyes follow Sergio as he walks over to the chair next to the dresser. 

“How did post-op go?” she asks, remembering the myriad of steps that they had devised together to leave behind as few tracks as possible.

“Well,” he says, taking off his shirt, his back and side to her. “All three of you have been scrubbed from the flight manifests and the fake passports have been destroyed.” 

He folds the shirt in the air and places it on the chair, as he continues, “The handlers have left for their respective continents. They understand they need to lay low for six months to avoid being matched to any possible camera footage.”

This is all excellent news. “That’s terrific!”

“I triple checked everything,” he says, taking off his pants and folding them. “I didn’t want to take any chances.”

“You never do,” she says with a smile. 

She is so grateful. 

Finally, he takes off his underwear, and places them on the chair. 

She observes his beautiful body, the candlelight dancing across his skin as he moves. 

Raquel sighs. He is so handsome, and he is hers.

Opening the second drawer, he pulls out a pair of long, white pyjama bottoms and puts them on. 

“Sergio …” she whispers.

He turns to look at her.

“… you won’t be needing those.”

He looks down at the pants and then back at her.

Smiling, he leaves them on, but he closes the drawer without putting on a shirt. 

She chuckles inside. She did not even pretend to change her outfit. The sooner he pulls this dress off her the better. 

“Also,” he says, moving across the room and tapping the left side of the credenza, “… the reassembled phones are here.” 

“Wonderful.” 

Even if they cannot connect to the network for now, having smartphones will make them all feel a little more normal. 

“Both have functioning cameras and a notes app, and yours has a continuous three-month reminder. But you can turn it off anytime you want to stop with the injections.”

She smiles. She appreciates his attentiveness as much his deference. It is a fine line, but he walks it surprisingly well. He may find certain mainstream social interactions uncomfortable, but that has very little impact on her relationship with him. He would never pressure her to do anything, and it is his respect for her that makes all the difference.

“Paula’s also has games.”

“And no games for me?” she asks, putting on her best pout.

He pauses for a moment, and then he meets her eyes with intention. 

“Well … there is a two-player game I think you might like …”

Her whole body goes hot at his words. 

He is so witty at flirting when he goes for it, even in his own nerdy way. 

“Come here,” she whispers, her index finger beckoning to him.

He smiles, walking towards her. 

But instead of coming to her side, he goes to the foot of the bed.

Confused, she turns to see him move the loose canopy linen aside, as he climbs onto the bed with his knees.

Kneeling behind her, he leans in to place a kiss on her temple.

She sighs. 

His lips descend down her cheek, leaving a trail of chaste kisses along her skin.

Tilting her head to give him better access, she shifts her left side to face him by sliding one bent knee onto the bed, her toes grazing her inner thigh. 

Without conscious thought, her body leans into him. 

“Mmm … you smell nice.”

“It’s the new beard oil,” he murmurs, his mouth dropping kisses along her jawline.

She nuzzles his cheek. “Mmm, also sandalwood. You’re really going for this aphrodisiac thing.”

He tries to protest, “No, that was just the best one for–”

“M-hmm,” she interrupts him with a skeptical hum.

“Raquel, just to be clear …” 

His voice is suddenly serious, but it trails off, and she can feel his body stiffen a little.

“Mhm?” she encourages, brushing her cheek against his fragrant beard again. 

“I don’t think you understand.”

“Explain it to me,” she whispers.

“I …” He clears his throat. “I cannot imagine ever needing … an aphrodisiac with you.”

“Oh Sergio …” she sighs, reaching for his face, and looking him in the eyes. 

The feelings he elicits in her simply cannot be contained. 

The fire blazing in his eyes supports his statement.

She lets her thumbs slide across his cheeks, and then she pulls his lips to hers. 

Her tongue asks to enter, and he grants her permission instantly.

His hands slide down her bare arms, and move across her lower back and abdomen in slow, sensual strokes.

She moans softly, loving the fiery feeling of being enveloped by his mouth and his body.

Her fingers slip down to his neck, scraping at his magnificent beard. He was right. It is softer now.

His tongue caresses hers, and she enjoys the traces of the minty toothpaste combined with the taste of him. 

Today is a day full of flavors and fragrances. 

Her hands glide along his shoulders and down his smooth biceps. 

Sergio sighs into her mouth, as his fingers switch to gently scratching her skin through the fabric of her dress.

She returns his sigh, her palms sliding to his bare chest.

How many times has her head rested there, listening to his heartbeat? 

How many more times will her head rest there, listening to his heartbeat?

The infinity symbol comes to mind.

In lieu of eternity, she will settle for half a century. 

Her fingertips play with his chest hair, while her other hand gently flicks his nipple. 

He groans deeply.

He is hers.

She is his.

◉

Foreheads rest on each other’s out of habit, as they inhale. 

Sergio smiles at her through heavy breaths, and she smiles back. 

Her skin tingles at the feel of his fingers brushing against her arm, but she is confused when he shifts in his seat, further out of her view. 

“Hm?” 

She feels his hands rest on her shoulders, brushing her hair aside.

He whispers in her ear, “Your shoulders must be so sore from three days with that heavy backpack.” 

“Actually, I feel–”

She stops mid-phrase because his thumbs are pressing into her trapezius muscles in the most perfect way, and for a moment, her brain goes completely blank.

Her head bows involuntarily, and a groan escapes her.

And another. 

And another.

And another. 

His skillful touch feels so restorative that maybe her shoulders have been sore all along and she just has not realized. 

“Is this pressure good?”

“So good,” she moans. 

How on earth did the stars align to make everyone inhabit their best selves today? 

Without Paula’s meltdown, she might not believe that this is reality.

Her reality. 

_Their_ reality. 

First Sergio’s sexy shower _assistance_ , then mamá’s delicious cooking, then Paula’s unadulterated joy, and then Sergio with his, frankly unbelievable, attention to detail, and then Sergio with his welcoming mouth, and now Sergio with his dexterous hands, and very soon Sergio with his whole glorious body. 

A minute ago, she wanted very soon to be now, but how can she choose when everything he does feels so, so good? 

She feels his beard brush against her neck.

“Maybe you would like to take your dress off?”

“Sí, por Dios.” 

She helps by tugging at the bottom part of the dress that she sits on because she knows that he would try to be gentle, and it would take forever, and she needs his fingers back on her skin as soon as humanly possible. 

Raquel lifts her arms above her head, and he chuckles at her impatience.

“Are you laughing at me?”

“No,” he says seriously, finally pulling the dress up and over her head. 

She remembers how gentle he was putting it on her earlier in the day, and the memory warms her heart. 

She likes gentle too. 

Raquel reminds herself to be patient. 

Moving her hair to one side again, his fingers return to her shoulders, his thumbs pressing into her tired muscles. 

Her head drops, and suddenly, every part of her body is crying with exhaustion. 

She whimpers in frustration.

Why body? Why now? 

She has been waiting to be with him for such a long time. 

To give him pleasure.

To receive pleasure.

His lips form a kiss on the nape of her neck, and his beard tickles her skin as he moves to her ear.

“Would you like to lie down?”

All she can do is give in. 

“Por favor.” 

He moves off the bed, at the same time that she sprawls herself on it, trying to push the pillows and the covers out of the way.

She hears him chuckle again, but he helps her move the sheets and the covers, and she is too tired to care if he is laughing at her.

Raquel sighs at the feel of the cool sheet against her left cheek, and her breasts, and her belly, and her thighs, and her whole body.

She sighs again. 

It feels sublime. 

She is already a tiny bit less tired.

Raquel lets her arms and legs flap across the smooth sheet, reveling in the feeling. 

It is like doing a snow angel facing down except there is no snow and it is warm. 

There is an ocean beyond the window.

 _Their_ window.

Mierda.

She suddenly remembers where she is and who she is with, and she turns her face to the other side.

Sergio is standing by the side of the bed, his arms folded, an amused look on his face.

“Don’t laugh at me.” 

He lifts his hands up in defense. “I am not.” 

“This is all your fault, you know.”

“Mine?”

“If you hadn’t gone all fancy on me with a massage, I wouldn’t have known how tired I was.”

“That doesn’t sound like … a good thing.”

“I disagree.”

“Well, I would prefer it if you didn’t fall asleep while we are …”

“Pffff. When have I ever?”

“There’s a first time for everything, Raquel. But it won’t be tonight.”

“If I had any energy right now, I would throw a pillow at you for even insinuating it.”

“I rest my case.”

Groaning in exasperation, she turns her head to the other side again. She cannot bear to look at him and not touch him. 

Joder. She is so, so, so horny. 

But she is also so, so, so tired.

She eyes one of the lanterns, tying to focus her mind. 

Does she have any other options at this juncture except falling asleep?

She thinks hard.

As long as she feels tired, he will be able to tell that she is tired. 

If she tries anything with bleary eyes, he is capable of going to sleep on the couch. And that would just be the saddest first night. 

To be fair, falling asleep while having sex tonight would be just as sad.

Not that she would _ever_.

But today has been so perfect that ending it with sleepy sex just seems like inviting bad vibes. 

She sighs.

Hmm.

Wait, what about … 

Coffee? 

That might actually work!

She turns to face him again. 

He is still standing by the bed, observing her. 

“Sergio?” she says in her sweetest voice.

“Mhm?”

“Could you make me some … coffee?”

She sees him purse his lips, and his hands stretch and flex.

Half a dozen emotions run across his face. 

He moves to sit on the bed next to her, placing his hand on her lower back, just above the waistband of her underwear. 

She hums happily. 

“Raquel …” he starts in a serious voice. “You have traveled through more airports and types of vehicles in the last seventy-two hours than you have in all of last year. And instead of letting you sleep, you would like me to keep you awake even longer by making coffee in the middle of the night so that you have enough energy to …” 

“To what?” 

If he is not going to do it, he is at least going to say it. 

He sighs. “ … to have sex with me.”

She grunts. “Why do you have to make it sound so … so …”

He waits, expectantly. 

“So absurd!”

“Am I misrepresenting your words?”

“No,” she grumbles.

Time to try a different tactic. 

“If it were our _last_ night, you would make me coffee.”

He struggles to keep a straight face.

“And you might be correct …” he says, his long fingers sliding from one side of her waist to the other. “ … but lucky for all of us, it is not our last night, and you need to rest because tomorrow you have a full day with Princesa Elsa and Mariví.”

“And with you … ?”

He smiles. “And with me.” 

“I really hate that you’re making so much sense right now.”

“I know,” he says empathetically, his fingertips moving so soothingly along her skin. 

“I’m sorry I’m so slangry.”

She hates that ridiculous word, and she hates the feeling. 

“It’s okay,” he whispers, giving her waist a soft squeeze.

She sighs. She is out of options. 

Taking a deep inhale, she feels the faint scent of sandalwood in the air. The incense must have burned out. 

Wait!

Could an aphrodisiac work? 

Who the hell knows, but there is no harm in trying.

“Sergioooo?” She draws out the last syllable.

“Mhm?”

“Could you do something else for me instead?”

“That depends.” His matter-of-factness is endearing and frustrating in equal measure.

“Would you mind lighting some more incense?”

He scrutinizes her face for a long moment. 

She looks back at him expectantly, trying to appear as innocent as possible.

“Please …”

He nods hesitantly.

She grins wide.

He gives her another squeeze before standing up and moving to the credenza.

“Four, please.” 

He does not respond. 

“And could you bring them here? They are so relaxing.”

He gives her a side-eye, but still does not say anything. 

She watches him pull out four incense sticks and the matchbox before walking over to the dresser.

His body conceals the incense tower from view, so she lets her eyes move around the room until they land on the glass of water on her bedside table.

With effort, she props herself up onto her elbows and drags herself to the edge of the bed.

Reaching for the water, she gulps it down, hoping that it will make her less tired.

She sighs. This is what their first night together has come down to. 

Fighting exhaustion with water and sandalwood. 

If she had only known, she would have jumped him the moment he walked through those doors. Romance be damned. 

But then again …

She had also liked all his little tokens of affection. _Really_ liked them.

She admires the lovely amber lanterns, as a beautiful harmony plays in the background.

She sighs. 

She just wants it all, dammit. 

Frustrated, she slaps her hand against the mattress. 

Her hand bounces back instantly.

She slaps the mattress again.

It bounces back again.

She looks at her hand in wonder, slapping the mattress again.

It bounces back.

“Are you … okay?”

She is every emotion under the moon _except_ okay, but she is not going to tell him that. 

Looking up, she sees him standing by the bed, an amused look on his face. Again. 

She feels childish, but her grip on her own behavior at this level of fatigue feels tenuous at best.

“I look a bit ridiculous tonight, don’t I?”

He observes her, and she can see the wheels in his mind turning. 

“I believe that is a trick question. I have read about those.” 

She is curious about what on earth he has been reading, but she is so enamored by the mattress that she slaps it yet again, and her hand bounces back again.

Delightful. 

“We have a bouncy mattress too!”

Sitting next to her, she feels his fingers slide up her back again. 

“It’s not as responsive as Paula’s, but responsive enough.” 

“Responsive enough for sex?”

“Yes. That was an important factor in my research.” 

“But, for _our_ kind of sex, right?”

He chuckles, his fingertips grazing her skin in slow, meandering motions. 

“Yes, Raquel.” 

She smiles. 

“Good.”

Lowering her chest to the mattress, she notices the incense tower on her bedside table, as she lets her hands slip down to her sides.

Her cheek lands on the cool sheets again. 

His hand moves up and down her back to the gentle rhythm of the music, as the scent of sandalwood fills the air once again. 

She closes her eyes.

_This is what her Sergio feels like._

◉◉

Raquel’s nose scrunches up at the strong smell invading her nostrils.

Is something burning? 

She lets her eyes blink open, and she remembers where she is.

A sheet covers her body.

Mierda. How long has she been out?

The music is still playing softly, and some of the tealights are still burning, so it cannot have been that long. 

But the canopy curtains on her side of the bed have been tied back to the bedposts. 

Disappointed, she feels her nose tickle again.

Wait, did the four incense sticks just wake her up? 

Doing a quick body scan, her muscles still feel tired, but she is surprised to find that her mind feels quite clear. It must be the jet lag.

Suddenly, she hears a loud bang-bang-bang. It sounds like it is coming from outside, behind the house. 

She turns her face to the other side in search of Sergio.

He is standing at the window, with his back to her, looking at the ocean, undisturbed by the noise.

She only sees traces of the well-shaped planes of his back. He has put on his pyjama shirt. 

Sighing in resignation, she calls out to him. 

“Sergio ...”

He turns around, surprised.

There is another bang-bang-bang sound. 

“What is that?”

“Firecrackers. Our neighbors are Chinese.”

She is confused. 

“It is midnight. The Chinese New Year just started.” 

More bang-bang-bang sounds echo in the air, joined by booming sounds, and she sees traces of sparks in the sky. 

With her elbows, she drags herself towards the other edge of the bed to be closer to the window.

Colorful sparks dance in the sky. The fireworks are small, but beautiful. The noise continues, but she does not mind it anymore.

“Come,” she whispers, patting the edge of the bed next to her, as she props herself up on her elbows to see better. 

He sits down next to her sprawled frame.

She nestles against his leg for more support, sliding one arm over his thigh.

The palm of his hand finds hers, and he interlaces their fingers as his other hand rests on her knuckles. 

They both look out the window, admiring the vibrant play of light and colors. 

It truly feels like the first day of the rest of their life.

◉

The fireworks appear to have ended, and the romantic music fills the silence once again.

Stretching her free arm, she leans her head against it, as she turns to face him.

“Happy New Year, Sergio.”

He smiles, as he turns to her. 

“Happy New Year, Raquel.”

Her eyes lock with his.

He holds her gaze. 

She could look into his eyes through those nerdy glasses forever. 

◉

“I have a question.”

He eyes her suspiciously. 

“Is Sergio the masseur still available?”

His face breaks into a wide smile.

Her heart flutters, and she grins back. 

She would not give him up for anything in the world. 

Getting up, he walks to the other side of the bed, while she crawls to the middle of the mattress, letting herself fall prostrate on it. 

Picking up a small bottle from the drawer of the bedside table, he climbs onto the bed. 

He straddles her torso, but she does not feel his weight on her. 

“Is that going to be comfortable for you?” she asks. 

“Don’t worry about me. Just focus on relaxing. But let me know if something doesn’t feel good. Okay?”

“Mhm,” she murmurs, hearing a sound that resembles palms rubbing against each other.

His voice drops an octave. “Now, take a slow, deep breath.”

She inhales deeply and exhales deeply, the sandalwood ticking her nose again. 

“Mmm …”

His warm palms land on her back, and then move upward as he spreads the massage oil across her skin. 

His hands glide up her body in long, even, repetitive strokes. 

She senses a new scent in the air. “Mmm … what fragrance is that?”

One of his hands disappears from her back. 

Then she hears a faint chuckle.

“Tell me!”

“Frankincense, myrrh, and … sandalwood.”

She laughs. “So we are fully a sandalwood household now?”

“I guess we are.” 

His _we_ hugs her heart. 

◉

His strokes are smooth and circular, and the pressure is perfect.

She sighs. “That is wonderful.” 

His hands continue moving, now with more confidence, and it feels like heaven.

With her body relaxed under his touch and her libido locked by his veto, she lets her mind drift to the events of the day. 

“Mamá was very lucid today.”

“Mhm.”

“You two seem to be getting along well.”

“She has led a very interesting life.”

“Hm?”

She can feel him shrug by the way his hands twitch on her body. “I learn a lot from her.”

Of course that brilliant brain of his would find her chatty mother a treasure trove of information instead of an annoyance to endure.

“I’m glad.”

“Me too.”

She can hear the smile in his voice, as his fingers slip to her collarbones, his thumbs kneading deep into her shoulder muscles.

“How has she been the past few days?”

“Mostly good. Sometimes she talks to me as if I am someone else. But nothing alarming.” He pauses briefly. “She was so happy when Paula arrived.”

“I’m sorry you had to–”

His hands still on her shoulders, and he cuts her off in a gentle tone. “Raquel, there is nothing to apologize for.”

To corroborate the statement, his lips drop small kisses across her shoulder blades.

He comforts her with the same words she said to him before lunch.

She had meant the words.

She believes he means them too.

She believes him. 

◉

His fingers slide down her neck and return to her shoulders, dedicated to working out the knots in her trapezius muscles. 

She exhales loudly. “Did you hear what a wonderful job Nátally did with Paula?”

He chuckles in response.

“Mhm?” 

She is loving the massage, but not being able to see his face while talking to him is frustrating to say the least.

“Mariví and I were treated to a whole play.”

“I didn’t get a play,” she grumbles.

“Because she would rather be in your arms.” 

He drops another chaste kiss on her shoulder, whispering, “I understand her priorities.”

Then his thumbs return to work on her shoulder knots, as if he had not just flirted with her.

This is how it had started in the shower.

Maybe there is hope for some sexy times after all. 

But she has to play it cool. 

He cannot see her coming.

She giggles at her own pun. 

“Hm?” he asks, his thumbs moving along the space between her shoulder blades.

“Tell me about the play.”

“Well … Paula played all the characters, the king, the queen, and the princess, and it was all very … interesting.”

She loves that he will not lie about enjoying a play by a child that, frankly, sound ridiculous, but at the same time he will not belittle it either. 

“I would have loved to see it.”

“I think Mariví recorded it. Paula did different voices and mannerisms for each character and that was very impressive.”

The inflection in his voice tells her this compliment is genuine, and it warms her soul. 

“She loves stories. She was very taken by that day-long fairytale.”

“Brazilians know how to entertain. Even I know that.” 

She smiles at his self-deprecation. She aims to entertain him for decades to come.

Feeling his body shift above her, his fingers move to her lower back, applying more massage oil. 

“Speaking of the story … some details were _very_ familiar.”

He lets out a small chuckle. “She tracked you for a year, Raquel. And she refused to transport a minor without more information.”

“We love a criminal with a heart of gold.”

His fingers still, and she cannot tell if it is because of _criminal_ or _love_. 

Or both. 

She mentally slaps herself. Her police training runs deep, and she is still working on getting that vocabulary out of her system. She is a criminal as much as any of the people who helped her family escape from Spain. 

“Sorry,” she whispers. 

He acknowledges her apology with a hum, as his palms, on either side of her spine, move up her back in repetitive motions. 

Her words are not about him, but the second implication is just as clear, and she does not mind the slip. 

He must know by now. 

But maybe he needs more time. 

She can wait. 

◉

“You realize that if you continue this massage, I’m going to fall asleep.”

“You can do whatever you like tonight.”

“There are many _things_ I would like to do, and falling asleep is not one of them.”

“Raquel …”

“I should at least get to kiss you again before I fall asleep.” 

He pauses. “That seems reasonable.”

She tries to turn around, but his hand stops her.

“Not yet.”

“But you promise to kiss me before I fall asleep again?”

He does not respond.

“Mhm?” she prompts him.

He sighs. “I promise.”

“Fine,” she huffs, but his fingers kneading her lower back feel so heavenly that she cannot complain. 

She will just have to keep talking. 

“I wonder how long we’ll have to call her Princesa Elsa.”

“I don’t know, but I’m glad she’s finally calling me Sergio.”

“Me too.”

“I will call her Princesa Elsa for the rest of my life if she so wishes.”

 _For the rest of his life_. 

Her heart flutters at his sincerity.

Could he make her any happier?

“You were wonderful with her.” 

“Did you hear? I’m the best,” he says with mock arrogance, so out of character for him. But she can hear an underlying tinge of pride. 

“Yes, you are,” she says, letting her hand affectionately brush against his knee. “Thank you for all the effort with the new door sign.” 

He hums, as the heels of his hands press into the muscles of her upper arms. 

“And you’re also a bed jumper, huh?”

He shrugs. “I just researched what children her age like to do. Jumping on beds always made the top of the lists.”

“Lists?”

“I wasn’t going to entrust Paula’s future to a single source.” He sounds almost offended. 

“Her future? Just how much research have you done?”

“The necessary amount.”

For Sergio, the _necessary amount_ might just about mean a master’s degree in child development.

“Well, I hope I get to see you jumping on the bed one day.”

“One day,” he agrees. “When you’re not so tired.”

◉

“Dios, Sergio, yes, there, that feels so good,” she moans. 

He is pressing his powerful thumbs along the ball and arch of her left foot, and she only realizes now just how much work her feet have done in the past seventy-two hours. The foot massage in the shower is nothing compared to his thoroughness now. 

She groans.

Suddenly, there is a knock at the door. 

They both quiet instantly. 

His hand lands on her leg reassuringly. 

“I’ll get it,” he whispers. 

There is no tinge of annoyance or frustration in his voice. 

He is utterly perfect. 

Sergio descends from the bed and walks towards the door.

His hand is about to reach for the doorknob when they hear Mariví’s voice. 

He stops.

“Oye, Princesa Elsa, what is going on?”

“I had a nice dream, but the bang-bang woke me up, and I tried _really hard_ to fall asleep again but I couldn’t, so I came to tell mami about my dream.”

“Mamá is sleeping, cariño. She is very, very tired. Why don’t you tell me about the dream now, and tell mamá tomorrow?”

“Ah, vale.”

They hear Mariví and Paula walk away.

She feels relieved. 

Again, her mother is inhabiting her best self for Raquel’s benefit. She is so grateful. 

Back on the bed, Sergio picks up where he left off, pressing hard into her grateful foot.

◉

His fingers massage her right foot with the same fervor as her left, making it the best foot massage of her life. Her feet feel as light as feathers, but her mind does not rest easy. 

She wants to address what just happened, but she is not sure what to say. 

His fingers release her right foot, and he shifts again, as his hands move in long, relaxing strokes from her calves to her upper thighs.

“Well … I guess that was … funny.”

He hums in agreement. “Even your mother knows you’re tired.”

“You know perfectly well that’s not what she was saying.”

“I guess we’ll never know.”

“Oh, we’ll know tomorrow, when she asks you if you enjoyed the night.”

He is quiet for a moment, as his hands move to her left calf, working the muscle methodically.

“Well …” he says, “since nothing is going to happen because you are too tired, there will be nothing to tell.”

“Or she might think that we have a problem. That _one of us_ has a problem.”

“No, she wouldn’t …” he says in alarm, trying to convince himself.

She giggles. Teasing him is becoming Raquel’s favorite pastime, just like Mariví’s. 

“Are you laughing at me?” he asks in a small voice. 

That sobers her up. 

He did not laugh at her earlier, so she should try to be more empathetic. 

“Not at all.”

The conversation lulls, as she gives in to the divine feel of his big palms on her thighs, fingers moving up her leg, kneading powerfully into her muscles. 

◉

“Raquel …?”

“Mhm?”

“Is there _anything_ I can do to make Mariví stop talking to me about … that?” 

Hearing the tinge of desperation in his voice, her heart goes out to him. 

“Yes … but I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

He sighs. “Tell me.”

“Answer her questions.”

She hears a preposterous exhale. “I am not going to talk about … us with my–my … with Mariví, least of all in front of you and Paula.”

“We can leave the room if th–”

“Raquel …”

“I’m sorry,” she says, really meaning it this time. “I guess you can always try telling her that it makes you uncomfortable, but …”

“But?”

“But she will probably forget … and I guess you don’t want a post-it reminder that says _Do not ask Sergio about sex._ ”

His fingers still. 

“Can you imagine if Paula found it?” 

His voice is laced with abject horror. 

“That would certainly require some creative explanations.” 

And knowing her daughter, Paula would start asking Sergio about sex. But he does not need to know that yet. 

He is quiet again, as his fingers work on her other calf even more thoroughly. He is clearly deep in thought. 

“I think the only solution is for me to learn to endure it,” he concludes stoically. 

Raquel wants to laugh, but she also finds the whole thing rather adorable. 

He adds, “People suffer because they are caught in their views. As soon as we release those views, we are free and we don’t suffer anymore. Thích Nhất Hạnh.”

She does not recognize the last words. “Hm?”

“A Buddhist monk. Thích Nhất Hạnh.”

She is moved by his attempts to get past his discomfort.

“I guess that’s easier said than done.”

He confirms with a sigh. “I will try.” 

His hands move to her thigh and he kneads and kneads, driving the tension out of her legs, and hopefully out of his mind. 

A thought occurs to her.

“I may have an idea.”

“Mhm?”

“Would it be easier if I answered for you? Like today?”

“Could you?” 

His fingers still again, and his voice is so hopeful that she wishes she could see his face. She feels a sudden desire to smother him with affection. 

“Of course.”

His lips find the back of her legs, and he sprinkles little kisses up her thighs.

“But when you’re alone, you’ll have to fend for yourself.”

There is a brief pause before he responds. 

“I’ll just have to survive until you arrive.” 

His tone is already lighter.

She smiles, as she feels his mouth move further up, dropping pecks along the line of her panties. 

“It will be hard, but I’ve already done it,” he whispers. 

The double meaning fills her heart.

◉

She feels his elbows dig deep into her ass cheeks. It is slightly uncomfortable, but also relaxing as she feels the release of tension.

He shifts, and then his fingers are on her right buttock, rolling and squeezing her soft flesh in repetitive motions. Slipping beneath her underwear, he repeats the motions along her entire cheek. 

“Very thorough,” she says, with a chuckle.

“Muscles of the gluteal region are necessary for stability, movement, and posture. They ease pressure on the back, spine, and legs. This muscle group cannot not be overlooked in any type of full body massage.” 

Did he become an actual masseur?

His fingers move to her other ass cheek, kneading it in the same methodical way. 

“You really don’t half-ass anything, do you?”

He chuckles. 

◉

The heels of his hands press into her buttocks symmetrically. His weight is heavy on her, but her muscles are grateful.

He is doing all the right things to induce relaxation, but the need to pee has started to nag at her body, and her daughter’s almost-interruption still nags at her mind. 

Maybe if she just explains, it will go away.

“And about Paula …”

How does she put this?

“Mhm?”

“Well … once she gets over the jet lag, she shouldn’t have any trouble sleeping through the night unless she’s sick. So her knocking in the middle of the night shouldn’t be a regular thing.”

“Okay.” 

His voice is neutral, and she cannot figure out if he is actually unbothered or doing a good job pretending. 

She debates whether to continue or leave this conversation for another day.

He chooses for her. 

“Are you worried about her interrupting us?”

“No. Yes. Maybe. A little bit. I don’t know … I mean, no ... But actually yes.”

What. The. Hell.

“I see,” he says. 

She chuckles, and thankfully, some of her tension dissipates. 

“I can’t have these conversations without being able to see your face properly. Can I turn around please?”

He acquiesces, moving to kneel to her left, as she turns onto her side, facing him. 

It is so good to see him again that her mind goes blank. 

He is so charming, with his nerdy glasses and his soft lips, and his sexy sideburns, and his full beard—

“So …” He looks at her expectantly.

She smiles. “You’re so … dreamy.” 

For a moment he holds her gaze, and then he looks away, clearing his throat.

“So are you worried about Paula interrupting us?” 

She blinks. 

Paula. Right. 

“ _I’m_ not worried about her interrupting because that’s just my life, but I guess I’m worried that you’re going to be worried about it, and if you’re worried about it then you won’t be as free, and I want you to be as free as you want, I _need_ you to be as free as you want, and I guess I’m just worried that all that worry and overthinking will kill the mood.”

She inhales to catch her breath.

Her little word soup was certainly _one_ way of getting it all out. 

He observes her, searching her eyes, and this time she looks away, feeling embarrassed.

She feels his fingers caress her arm, and his voice is soft when he speaks.

“When I asked you to join me and you agreed … it became my life too.”

In an instant, her eyes find his again.

She whispers, “Can you say that again?” 

He smiles shyly. 

“It’s _our_ life now.”

◉

Her soul blooms at his words. He really is being extra dreamy tonight. 

“And …” he begins, readjusting his glasses. 

“Mhm?”

She sees his eyes travel down to her bare chest, pausing there. 

He looks, and he stares, and he stares.

“And if I get to see you like this … nothing can kill my mood.”

It is a declaration as much as flirtation. 

“Yeah?”

He licks his lower lip. 

She moves onto her back, lifting herself up on her elbows to show him a better angle. 

Looking up at her, his eyes grow dark.

He growls. 

Her fingers climb up his thigh, and cup his groin.

He grunts. 

He is half hard. The mood is still very much alive. 

Caressing him over the pyjama fabric, she whispers, “Watch.” 

His eyes follow her movements as she brings two of her other fingers to her lips and into her mouth. 

She uses them to rub her nipple. 

Her tip perks up.

She feels him grow harder.

Perfect.

She squeezes him softly, and he groans.

“Hold that thought.”

With newfound energy, Raquel springs from the bed and almost runs to the bathroom. 

◉◉


	5. Featherlike (English)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
> ✺
> 
>   
> ~ Sergio gives Raquel the attention she deserves. ~ 
> 
>   
> ✺
> 
>   
>  [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/190672350@N04/50708822238/in/dateposted-public/)   
>    
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the **English** version.
> 
> If you think you might be interested in the Spanglish version, go to the next chapter.
> 
>   
> 
> 
>   
> Music to play while you're reading: [YouTube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ct45N6uRjhY) [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1Tev7XKLCr7Rs7YZPfkrfn)

✺

Raquel splashes her face with cold water. 

Quickly, she nudges at her eyebrows and gives herself a few sobering slaps. 

She feels awake and so beyond horny, but just in case. 

Using the glass on the other sink to drink some water, she fills it up again to take to him. 

He is going to need it. 

She cannot wait. 

✺

Back in the bedroom, she sees that the canopy curtains have been released from the bedposts and are pulled so firmly closed that she cannot see the bed between them. 

They are on the same page.

Finally.

Quietly, she slips between the airy linens. 

He is sitting on the other side, looking out the window. 

On her knees, she moves across the bed towards him. The bed shifts under her weight, but it remains firm. 

Excellent mattress indeed. 

Sergio turns to her, smiling. 

He is not wearing his glasses anymore, and she feels the heat in her belly intensify. 

“Water?” she asks, extending the glass to him, which he accepts gratefully.

He gulps it down before placing it on the bedside table.

They really are on the same page. 

Still on her knees, she crosses the gap between them, and reaching her hands to his sides, she tugs his shirt up.

Chuckling, he obliges her by hoisting his arms above his head, and she pulls the garment off. 

She slips her arms over his shoulders, fully leaning onto him. 

Her chest and belly press against his bare back. 

“I wanted to feel your skin against mine.” 

He hums in response.

Nuzzling his sideburn, she returns his hum.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Rejuvenated.” 

“I’m glad.”

“And fully awake.” 

She lets her teeth graze his cheek playfully. 

“I guess I didn’t do a very good job. It was supposed to be a relaxing massage.”

“I couldn’t have enjoyed it more,” she says, accompanying her words with three small kisses on his cheek.

His face turns to hers with a half-grin.

Her hands give his forearms a reassuring squeeze, as she lets her face slide against his tickly beard until they are cheek to cheek.

He hums, pleased. 

“I’m glad you liked your first–” 

He cuts himself off.

“My first what?”

He does not respond. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see his lips purse together.

Gently, she nudges her body against his and tries again. “My first what?”

He sighs in resignation. “Your first surprise.” 

Raquel turns to look at him. “There are more?” 

“Not tonight.”

“But tomorrow?”

“Maybe.” His shoulders slump beneath hers. “But I ruined the surprise now.” 

He is too pure for this world.

“It’s been a long day for you too,” she whispers.

Her arms cross in front of him, and, pressing her naked front to his bare back, she pulls him into a tight hug. 

“And you did not ruin _anything_.” 

He lets out a skeptical grunt. 

He has such high expectations of himself.

She needs a different approach.

“Actually …” 

She lets the word hang to pique his curiosity.

He does not disappoint. 

“Actually what?”

“Actually, now I’m even more excited to wake up tomorrow.”

He chuckles weakly. 

He knows her game, but he appreciates it anyway. 

Good. 

He taps her arm gently, and when she loosens her embrace, he turns to look at her.

“And you’re fully awake now?”

Opening her eyes wide, she nods vigorously.

She feels like a cartoon character, but the stakes are too high to allow for any misunderstandings. 

He chuckles. “You can stop now. I believe you.” 

She laughs, leaning her forehead to his temple. “Oh, thank god.” 

“You know what this means?”

“Mhm?” she asks. 

“I’ll have to find other ways to tire you out.”

His mission statement is like adding dry wood to the growing flame inside her. 

He likes a challenge, but so does she. 

Fixing her eyes on his, her fingers dig into his arm. 

“Only if I don’t tire you out first.”

He looks at her for only a moment before lunging at her hungrily.

She receives him eagerly, as their bodies topple onto the bed.

He is on top, and then she is on top, and then he is on top again, rolling from one end of the bed to the other.

Dios.

This. This. This.

This shared moment of being fully alive together is what she has been craving since the moment she left Palawan. 

Sergio has gone from _no sex because you’re barely conscious_ to _let me exhaust you with sex_ , and she knows that he will reverse that direction if the circumstances call for it. 

She makes a mental note to inform him that waking her up with oral sex is perfectly acceptable. 

Desirable even. 

Except maybe when she is on her period. 

Sergio is the lover from all her wildest fantasies.

He will never hurt her like she was hurt before. 

He respects her as a lover. 

He respects her as a partner. 

He respects her as a human being. 

He once told her that he had never felt such a strong desire to feel alive as when he was with her. 

It is different for her. She has felt alive for as long as she can remember. But she has not felt safe to inhabit that space in a long, long time.

His respect allows her to exist in the world in the same way that she exists in her own head. 

Fully alive. 

✺

“Raquel, Raquel,” he protests into her eager mouth, trying to pull away, even if she does not want him to. 

Lying diagonally on the huge bed, they have been kissing for barely five minutes, and he already wants a break.

_What?_

Reluctantly, she releases her grip around his neck, and his lips leave hers. 

He is propped on his right elbow next to her, with a knee between her thighs, his face hovering just above hers.

She avoids his eyes by looking up at the thatched ceiling.

He chuckles.

She sighs in exaggerated exasperation.

His hand drifts to her chin, as his thumb and index finger trace her jawlines.

Her eyes drift to his again, defiant.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says. 

It almost sounds like an apology, and she is both charmed and frustrated by his earnestness.

“The more you kiss me the sooner I’ll get used to it.”

“That is a very hedonistic attitude.”

“And?”

“And I prefer the gradual, preventive approach.”

“Well, it’s _my_ face, isn’t it?”

He pauses. “Not exactly my point, but that is true.”

She remembers how upset he was with himself her second day in Palawan. He had no idea what his beard could do to her face during a 24-hour sex marathon, especially after a recent trim, and she had been so eager after a year without him that she would have kissed him until her skin bled. 

Not that she thought that was a healthy approach. That was just how little she cared about the consequences. 

He changes tactics. 

“What are you going to tell Paula about the redness tomorrow?”

Did he just play the Paula card?

She props herself up onto her elbows in defiance. 

“And what are _you_ going to tell my mother when she asks why you didn’t kiss me enough?” 

He stares her down. 

She stares him down.

Their eyes bore into each other.

She giggles first. 

He chuckles right after.

“We have very different approaches to life,” he states matter-of-factly.

“But that makes us a good team.”

“Indeed.”

She lets her nose brush against his. Slowly.

He returns the gesture. Once. And again. 

Hands at their sides, they let their faces graze and trace each other’s in a gentle dance of noses and cheeks. 

He switches regularly between the two sides of her face, perhaps to even out any potential beard burn. 

It is all soft and delicate and affectionate and romantic. 

She does not think she could love him more if she tried.

Their necks join the fun, and then they are nuzzling. 

Like cats who like each other.

Brushing. 

Stroking.

Caressing.

Loving. 

The mellow music envelops her in a fluffy cloud of harmonies, and Raquel feels truly cared for. 

✺

“Speaking of teams …”

“Mhm?”

His eyes fix on hers. 

“Lisboa …” 

Smiling widely, she bites her lower lip. 

The three simple syllables are probably worth a whole conversation, but it is a topic for another day. 

Tonight, she just wants to love him.

He seems to agree because he leans into her ear.

“Me gusta.” 

Dios. She loves flirting with him as much as she loves making love to him. 

Her hand moves to cup him over his pyjama bottoms. 

“Oh yeah?”

He is more than half hard now.

“How _much_ do you like it?”

Instead of pushing into her hand, his hips pull back, out of her reach.

His dark eyes burn with an intensity she knows well.

“Let me show you.” 

His words are an incantation that sets her on fire. 

✺

Hovering above her, Sergio’s mouth finally descends onto hers again.

His lips graze hers, moving gently from left to right, and back again. 

Slowly.

Softly. 

Deliberately. 

She parts her lips for him, but he does not follow her cue. 

Instead, his mouth drifts farther, peppering tiny, gentle kisses across her cheek.

On any other day, she would take the reins, but something about his touch reminds her to be patient. 

It calls to mind that haunting phrase from a self-help book she leafed through once. 

_How can anyone do anything for you, if you constantly preempt everyone by doing everything first?_

Besides, he never disappoints.

She feels his fingertips brush along her collarbone, moving across her skin with a featherlike touch. 

His caresses are like Sergio himself.

Subtle.

Meticulous.

Considerate. 

Giving. 

Covering her face in kisses, his lips move along to her jaw and neck. 

His tongue makes itself known as he alternates enticing licks with innocent pecks. 

His fingertips move again, slowly tracing the curve of her shoulder, while his mouth drifts leisurely down her neck.

He shifts a little lower, her left clavicle now receiving generous attention from his graceful lips. 

There is a small pause when he reaches her throat, and his hot breath drives her wild. 

His tongue encircles the tiny dip between her collarbones, and then glides into it smoothly. 

It is a tiny preview of what is to come. 

“Sergio …”

The moan comes out louder than expected, and he chuckles.

“Shhhh.”

The only double-edged sword of their new home is its bamboo and wood construction.

Oh well. She will just have to be quieter in expressing her satisfaction. Or more creative.

His lips proceed to her other clavicle and a few moments later he is dropping kisses on her shoulder, as his fingers dance across her chest, outlining gentle waves across her skin.

She feels like he has barely touched her, and yet desire already clouds her mind. 

He sprinkles kisses down to her elbow, as two fingertips slide down her sternum, and she shivers at the faint scratch of his nails between her breasts.

Craving for more, she lets her fingers slide into his soft hair.

He moans into her skin.

Dios. She loves his moans.

His fingertips draw big circles around her left breast, matched by the trail of chaste kisses that his lips leave around her right breast. 

The circles so large and languid that she only notices them becoming smaller when his touch approaches her areolas.

His gentle nails graze her warm skin in tandem with the light scratches from his bearded mouth.

The tip of his tongue joins his lips, and feeling that hot, wet part of Sergio on her sensitive skin again sends a shiver up her spine. 

The concentric circles lull her and excite her at the same time. 

Each touch is different but so delicious, and it is impossible to decide which she enjoys more. 

His halos finally reach her nipples, and his teeth join the fun. 

By now he knows the exact way that she likes to be touched, and he grazes her sensitive flesh with such creativity that she feels the heat pool between her legs. 

If he continues like this, she might come just from this magical featherlike touch. 

She lets out a sigh that is, again, much louder than she anticipated.

His eyes look up at her in surprise. 

She bites her lip in an embarrassed apology.

He smiles, his dark locks falling messily at his forehead.

He is so adorable. 

She gives him a small nod and scrapes her fingers across his head, nudging him to continue. 

His mouth closes, but not around her nipple like she had hoped. 

Instead, he peppers small kisses along the inside of her breast, joined with playful licks, as his lips move across the valley and onto the inside of her other breast. His fingertips follow the reverse trajectory.

Her breasts are once again caressed by his glorious circles, and even knowing the outcome, the anticipation he creates makes her hot all over again.

She has a fleeting thought that, of course Sergio is meticulous enough to ensure symmetry even when, or especially when, he is teasing her like this.

She feels his hard length nudge at her leg, and as heavenly as his gentle touch is, she cannot be the only one veering on the border of frustration. 

He circles her breasts with his tongue and nails once again, and it occurs to her that there is no grabbing, no squeezing, no pressing, no sucking. 

She enjoys all of those things, in part because there is so much give and take. 

But this, right now, is different. 

Just like the massage, everything is entirely for _her_ benefit. 

For her senses. 

For her pleasure. 

The realization embraces her soul, as Raquel finally allows herself to fully surrender to the paradise that he is creating for her. 

✺

His mouth travels down her body, tracing the edges of her ribcage with light kisses, accompanied by the airy touch of his fingertips. 

He delivers faint pecks all across her upper abdomen, avoiding the adhesive bandage, but delicately brushing his lips all around it.

Moving lower, he pauses at her navel and languidly encircles the hollow spot with his tongue. 

Excitement mounts inside her, as she lets her fingers roam through his hair. 

She sighs his name. 

“Sergio …” 

He groans in response, his focus on her body unwavering.

Withdrawing his tongue, he drifts to the other part of her lower abdomen to drop little kisses there. 

His lips make a loop across her skin, finding her navel again. 

The tip of his tongue draws slow circles around the center of her belly. 

He travels around the edge of her navel over and over and over again, and the wet touch combined with his hot breath gives her goosebumps. 

His tongue dips inside the gap and it is so unexpected that another moan escapes her lips. 

She can feel his lips curve into a smile as his beard tickles her skin, and she smiles too.

How is everything he does so unbearably sexy?

She is loving it. 

She is loving him. 

She loves him.

So much. 

She is fully awake, and there really is no rush anymore. 

He flicks his tongue, playing with her navel, while his hand traces her hip, descending to her thigh.

His tongue disappears from her skin again, as his lips move to kiss along the waistband of her underwear.

She cannot wait for him to pull them off her. 

He shifts his body lower, his mouth leaving kisses along her hip and thigh, as his fingertips follow in tandem across the other side of her body. 

Drifting out of her reach, she feels him caress her knees with reverence. 

His fingertips once again feel like feathers, and his lips graze leisurely against her skin.

She watches him deliver every stroke and caress, in awe of his thoroughness. Every now and then, she catches glimpses of his face, and the deep concentration in his features completely disarms her. 

Never in her wildest dreams could she have imagined a man ever treating _her_ like this. This was for fictional heroines and for women who were not her. 

His tongue and teeth meet her skin once again, flitting and nibbling at one knee and then the other. His movements are slow and methodical, and yet unbearably sensual. 

He devotes such a long time to this part of her body that her knees start feeling like an erogenous zone being discovered for the first time. 

His fingertips travel down one shin, as he leaves a trail of kisses down the other, and she feels another tingle run up her spine. 

His kisses drift to her ankle, and then spill over to the bridge of her foot. 

She is particularly moved when his lips leave a kiss on her left pinky toe, and then on all her other toes. 

Sergio has covered her entire body in kisses, and this is the first time in her life that she has felt truly worshipped. 

That she has allowed herself to be worshipped. 

That her partner has insisted that she be worshipped. 

Because Sergio worships her. 

In her entirety.

From the hairs on her head to her pinky toes. 

Sergio worships her.

✺

Covering the tops of her toes in kisses, his lips move down the bridge of her right foot. 

Yet, he does not stop there. He turns his attention to the sole of her foot, dropping pecks on the underside of each toe at a time. 

The nitpicky part of her brain is grateful that she has spent most of her time on one bed or another since she showered and washed her feet.

Since _he_ washed her feet.

At this point, can her life get any better?

His lips move to the ball of her right foot, and then down her arch, and then he kisses her heel. 

Contrary to the pattern he has established on the rest of her body, his fingertips do not match his lips for symmetrical balance. Instead he strokes the sides of her calves in smooth, repetitive motions. 

His fingers avoid the soles of her feet because he remembers that she is ticklish, and this is yet another reminder of how this whole evening has been solely for her.

 _Is_ solely for her.

Her heart fills with warmth. 

His lips move to the heel of her left foot, and she refocuses her eyes on him.

She sees his upper body, and it is the first time that she realizes he is no longer on the bed. 

The bed is big but not big enough for them both at this angle.

He is kneeling on the floor, while he bathes her feet in his adoration.

Her full heart fills with love just a little bit more. 

His kisses move along the arch and ball of her left foot, and then his lips land on the underside of her toes, giving each one individual attention. 

Dropping a last peck on her pinky toe, he rests his chin lightly on the ankles of her open feet. 

He looks directly at her.

She feels her breath catch, anticipating his next move with excitement. 

Her eyes locked on his, she lets the tip of her tongue slide along her lower lip. 

Slowly.

He growls, his eyes devouring her. 

As long as she lives, she will never tire of being looked at like that. By him.

Only him. 

She hopes that he can see the same in her eyes. 

Feeling hot and ready, she watches him, as his lips scatter kisses along the inside of one ankle, while his fingertips brush against the skin of her outside ankle. 

The consistent pairing of his featherlike strokes mesmerizes her senses.

She feels drunk on his touch, fully under the influence of his copious caresses. 

His mouth grazes the inside of her other ankle, and his fingers follow suit.

As his nails caress the outsides of her legs, he lets his face brush her inner calf with the side of his face, showering her leg with catlike affection. 

It so adorable. 

His beard feels perfect against her calves, and she lets out a happy sigh.

He repeats the movement on her other calf, but he also adds a little nudge of his nose, that she might have missed if all her senses were not attuned to every movement of the man at her feet.

She is more than happy to oblige, as she parts her legs lazily, just enough for him to continue his upward trajectory.

She is eager but unrushed, lulled into the comfort of his slow-motion orbit.

It feels exactly right for this moment, and yet so unlike anything she has ever felt in bed before. 

Like the first time she saw snow fall as a child. So new and awe-inspiring, and yet so natural. 

She feels different because he is different. 

Everything feels different because their situation is indeed different tonight. 

There is no urgency because it is the first time that they both know, without a shadow of doubt, that there will be many more nights to come. 

✺

She watches him move up her legs, his facial hair grazing along her upper calves, as he climbs back onto the bed. 

He leaves many unhurried kisses along the insides of her knees while his fingertips caress her thighs. 

The increasing friction of his beard against her skin whenever he approaches her lower thighs tells her he needs more space, but she surprises herself when she realizes that she prefers to delay until he asks. 

Awaiting the moment of him asking, excites her. 

His beard and lips roam the spaces where her calves meet her thighs, with his tongue occasionally slipping out to lick at the underside of her knee. 

He spends a long time worshipping every section of her knees again, and it occurs to her that he might be waiting for her. 

She sighs contentedly for his benefit as much as her own, and then she feels another gentle nudge of his nose against her lower thigh. 

Smiling to herself, she allows her legs to drift open a little more.

He gives her a little hum in response, and she both hears it and feels it on her skin, and it sends many warm tingles up her spine. 

She wants him to do whatever he has envisioned, and for once, she is letting herself fully savor the anticipation of being taken imminently, just not yet. 

Slipping his arms beneath her knees, he leaves a familiar trail of kisses along her skin as he moves higher and higher along her inner thigh, while his fingers match the movement on the outside of her legs.

His lips merely brush against the fabric of her underwear, but it is enough to send another tingle up her spine. 

Too soon, he shifts to her other leg and his beard tickles her sensitive flesh, as he drifts south. The fingers of his other hand work in complement, also sliding down. 

Having reached her knee, he begins to move upwards again, but this time his mouth is half-open and he leaves big, wet, sloppy kisses on her skin. 

It is a wholly new sensation after all the chaste, featherlike touching, and that familiar stir in her lower abdomen feels like a raging fire. 

She lets out a whispered moan.

“Sergio …”

She is desperate to touch him, but he keeps drifting out of her reach. 

His lips are joined by his tongue, licking at her skin generously between each kiss, while his fingers press into her skin.

She feels his beard scrape deliciously against her upper thighs as his face moves through the narrow space between her legs, dropping a single kiss onto her underwear. 

Turning to her other thigh, the trail of his wet kisses moves downwards again.

She wonders when the anticipation will finally end because she is beyond ready.

Once at her knee, his mouth again moves to return the same way it arrived, except now his lips are wide open, dragging his full mouth and tongue across her skin, already moist from his wet kisses. 

The change in touch is so exhilarating and she moans again. 

His hands rest just below her hips, holding onto her fiery flesh, as his mouth nibbles and sucks unapologetically at her inner thigh. 

“Dios … Sergio …”

She moans again, and it is not a whisper this time. 

“Shhhhh …”

He continues to move, the delicious friction of his beard only increasing with his ascent. 

Desperate with desire, she is not sure how much longer she will be able to wait. 

Reaching her upper thigh, his mouth drifts to press his lips against her clit. 

“Yes … Sergio … yes …”

He responds with a deep groan, but her pleasure is short-lived as he moves to her other leg, dragging his wet, hot mouth across her excited skin. 

She lets out a sigh of frustration.

As if waiting for that specific cue, he nudges at her upper thigh.

She moans in relief, this time letting her legs open wide, inviting him fully in.

He smiles against her skin, his mouth continuing to drag, lick, nibble, and suckle down the sensitive expanse of her thigh. 

Her arousal feels so intense, and her whole body begs for release.

How is he able to turn her on to such dizzying heights?

“Sergio … por favor …”

Mercifully, his mouth starts moving upward yet again, as his tongue leaves another wet trail along her inner thigh. 

Reaching the line where her thigh meets her center, he licks generously along the contours of her panties, and all she can think about is closing her thighs around his head and pushing herself into him.

Joder. 

She really, really wants to see his plan through, but she only has so much self-control left.

Switching to the other leg, he follows the same pattern, licking and sucking her hot skin, as his fingertips press into both sides of her ass. 

Another whispered moan escapes her lips. 

His tongue flicks and nudges at the elastic, and just as she thinks he is going to finally slip underneath, he shifts to the middle, pressing his whole face against the narrow piece of cotton that shrouds her core. 

Finally.

She moans so loudly that for a moment she thinks the whole house must have heard.

It is but a fleeting thought because the man between her legs commands all her attention, and she is more than a willing participant.

Now that he is where she needs him to be, she lets her fingers slide through his hair again. 

It feels so good to touch him.

Pressed against her, he inhales deeply.

The act is so simple and yet so sexy, and her hold on her own patience is by now flimsy at best.

He exhales with a loud moan directly into her center, and the sensation reverberates through her insides. 

“Dios, Sergio …”

Even through the material, she feels every curve and feature of his face against her center. 

She revels in the sensation, realizing that this is possible only because her underwear is completely wet. 

Because _she_ is completely wet. 

Because he has completely disarmed her with his warm eyes and featherlike touches. 

She has never been more aroused.

Desire pulses through her veins, as she moves her pelvis to give him a gentle nudge. 

She is holding on by a mere thread to not rub herself into his face. 

He follows her cue, giving her clitoris a nuzzle. 

Even through the cotton, she already feels a flash of pleasure. 

“More, more,” she rasps.

He obliges instantly, letting his nose nudge at her center. 

Again. And again. 

The bolts of pleasure compound, and she can feel the waves in the distance.

“Sergio, more!”

She is being so loud, dammit.

Her hand grabs at a pillow, and she pulls it onto her shoulder.

His mouth finds her clit through the fabric, and he encircles it with his lips. 

He gives her one long suck, and then she is arching her back, grabbing at his hair, and groaning into the pillow. 

He draws on the sensitive spot once again. 

Twice. 

Three times. 

Four times. 

And then she is coming, waves of pleasure crashing against her over, and over, and over again.

She can see all the stars, as release spreads through her entire body. 

A feeling of weightlessness envelops her. 

She lets herself go limp, and he matches her stillness.

Floating on clouds, she revels in the contact of his body between her legs and his palms against her skin. 

His touch is warm. 

Grounding. 

Undemanding. 

He is just there. 

With her. 

_Estoy contigo._

✺

When she opens her eyes again, he is watching her. 

With a soft smile and a look of wonder in his eyes. 

He seems just as surprised as she is. 

The first orgasm has never happened to her like this before. This quickly. With him. Or with anyone else. Maybe not even with her own self. 

But no one has _ever_ covered her in featherlike kisses from head to toe before either. 

“Still awake?” he murmurs.

“More than ever.”

“I’m failing in my mission.”

She chuckles.

“If you succeed in your mission, you will lose out on _your_ reward.”

“Only until tomorrow, I hope,” he says shyly.

Mollified by her orgasm, her hand caresses his face languidly. “I’m still hoping for tonight.” 

He smiles, dropping a kiss on the wisps covering her mound of Venus.

With his eyes on hers, his fingertips trace the waistband of her underwear.

She nods emphatically.

With a glint in his eye, he flicks lazily at the edges of the panties. 

“Take them off!” she rasps.

His eyes darken at her verbal cue, and his fingers finally reach for the sides of the elastic band.

She lifts her hips, as he attempts to pull the garment down, but the unfeasibility of that plan becomes immediately apparent. 

With him sprawled between her thighs, Sergio is on a direct collision path with her panties. 

Lifting one leg up, she lets it move through the air above him as gracefully as possible, until it meets her other leg at his side. 

He adjusts, hovering his upper body above her legs, as his fingers drag the white cotton down her legs.

Slipping them past her ankles and heels, he places the garment on the bottom far side of the bed. 

Meeting her gaze, he gives her a shy smile.

She smiles back. 

Sex is clumsy gymnastics half of the time, but love and passion soak up all the awkwardness. 

✺

His fingers move lazily between her calves, grazing her skin in soothing motions, as his eyes drift down her torso to the wisps of hair that protect her center.

She is so eager for what she expects to happen next that she feels a flash of disappointment that her legs are closed. Again. 

Deliberating whether to take the reins or see if has anything else planned for her _before_ she takes the reins, his hand slides up between her legs, brushing along her knees and lower thighs.

She sighs enthusiastically. 

His fingers move further north. 

He is so close, and she sighs again. 

He looks up at her expectantly.

She looks back at him innocently.

He grins. He knows what this means. 

“Raquel …”

She bites her lip. “Mhm?”

“Open.”

Dios. His one-word commands never fail to make her weak in the knees. 

She opens her legs a little.

He looks up at her in surprise.

She raises an eyebrow. Let him get a taste of his own medicine. 

“More,” he orders.

She opens them by another fraction. 

“More,” he rasps. 

Her mind fogs with need at the mere sound of his voice, and she opens a little bit more. 

He lets out an exasperated groan, but his thumbs press into her inner thighs, and a fierce determination laces the features of his face. 

She licks her lips, waiting. 

“Open for me, Raquel.”

It is to his impatient growls that she spreads herself fully open. 

Without an ounce of hesitation, he is between her legs again. 

Sliding his arms beneath her knees, his hands land on her hips. 

It feels like he is anchoring her for what is to come. 

Anchoring himself. 

Anchoring them both. 

The context is completely different from the same act earlier in the day, but the feeling is the same. 

She is his tether, and he is hers.

✺

She lies inches from his face, wide open and fully exposed.

He observes her.

His eyes lavish her sex with admiration, languidly moving up and down and across, and back again. 

He licks his lips once, and again, and his eyelids droop a little. 

There is even a quiet groan that escapes his lips. Just from looking at her. 

His unapologetic adoration of her vagina is heartwarming and fire-starting in equal measure. 

She runs her fingers tenderly through his hair, while the nails of her other hand graze up his left knuckles, tracing slow, random patterns across his skin.

He surprises her by letting go of her hip and turning the inside of her hand to meet hers.

She feels his fingertips tickle her palm, so she does the same to his. 

Her nails scrape gently against his inner wrist and when he does the same, she hums. 

There is something unique about the way they are touching now.

He feels it too because his gaze finds hers. There is still hunger, but even more so, warmth. 

All the emotions that they do not yet have the words for are captured in their eyes. 

His fingers venture up her inner forearm, giving her access to his, and their forearms and fingertips sway across each other’s skin, revolving around one another in a magical dance of hands she has never experienced before. 

The movements are playful and lighthearted and so delightful, and she loses herself in the dark eyes that speak to her in a language only her heart understands.

✺

Sergio’s eyes drift down to her sex again, and she finally feels the tip of his hot tongue against her sensitive flesh.

It has been so long. 

“Sergio,” she sighs in relief.

His name on her lips never fails to encourage him, and he leans closer, pressing his whole face into her.

Dios.

Her fingers move through his hair, and her thighs hug him instinctively. 

Lightly, he shakes his head left and right, and up and down, repeating these gentle nudges against the wet skin so thirsty for him.

His beard scratches deliciously against her center, and with her own neatly trimmed hair protecting her, the friction here is nothing but pure delight. 

“Sergio …”

His tongue comes out to play again, sliding up along her left folds and descending down the other side. 

He repeats the motions slowly and steadily, lapping up the wetness that has saturated her layers since he started with his featherlike kisses.

But there is nothing featherlike about his touch now. His movements are leisurely, but assertive, born of experience in knowing precisely what she likes. 

His tongue licks her little hood generously, but never lingers, preferring to descend and fondle her inner lips, alternating between using the tip and the full surface. 

He gives her entrance the same attention, never pausing for too long, but showering it with wet, sloppy consideration nonetheless. 

Still sensitive from her first orgasm, her heated skin appreciates the unhurried pace of his delectable caresses.

A lazy moan escapes her lips. 

He groans in return, as his tongue continues its exploration of her layers, fraction by fraction, tasting her like a famished man having a meal again but wanting it to last. 

Seeing him between her legs, witnessing him enjoy her so brazenly in the candlelight, only heightens her enjoyment. 

His open tongue slides down her inner lips again, and he draws one into his mouth, sucking and licking the sensitive layer. 

The change in touch is so exhilarating that she moans again. 

“Yes … Sergio … yes …”

Her nails scratch against his forearm, and he groans into her loudly.

He moves to her other lip, bathing her juices with those of his mouth. 

She relishes every stroke of his tongue, every suckle of his lips, and every brush of his beard against her hungry sex. 

Sliding up and down her layers again, his tongue moves with more pressure, and she feels the heat gather inside her, her body promptly reacting to his obvious intentions. 

“More … Sergio … more … ”

He rewards her when his tongue pauses on her hood, and his lips encircle her most sensitive point of pleasure, sucking eagerly.

It feels so, so, so, so, so good. 

She pulls at his hair to keep him in place. 

“Don’t you dare move.” 

He responds with such a deep groan against her clit, that she can feel a definite trickle of wetness slide down her sex.

Dios. What is he capable of doing to her? 

She can already feel her orgasm take form again. 

Fingers that previously danced around her skin, now grip her forearm in reassurance.

She grips his in return, and he groans again, as his mouth flicks and licks and sucks and circles.

“Yes … more … yes …”

His upper body adjusts slightly, as the hand on her hip disappears.

And then she feels his fingers trace her entrance.

“Joder!” she rasps, the mere prospect driving her wild.

His mouth sucks her clit, as two fingers enter her slowly. There is no resistance because she is so fucking wet.

His fingers slide in and out in perfect rhythm with the ministrations of his mouth, and the waves of pleasure approach quickly. They always do the second time around. 

“Yes, like that,” she rasps, finding the pillow again and burying a multitude of consecutive groans into it. 

She is close, and he knows it, and so he sucks eagerly as his fingers pump in and out, while his other hand holds her tightly.

The giant wave advances, and she digs her nails into his skin in anticipation of the pleasure invading her body.

Finally it overwhelms her, and then she is coming, coming, coming, as Sergio’s mouth continues to suckle, his fingers finally crooking inside her, bringing a new devastating wave of ecstasy. 

Her toes curl, and the release compounds, spreading through her body, as her climax continues.

“Sergio, Sergio, Sergio …”

Gasping and moaning his name, she thrashes against him, but he holds onto her, his ministrations never wavering, as he rides out the extended orgasm with her. 

When her tense muscles fully relax, his mouth lets go.

A deep stillness finds them, as she lets her body soak in the satisfying sensations. 

Lethargic and satiated, her eyes flutter open to find him watching her with the same level of wonder that he often does after giving her an orgasm. 

His face like this is what she has come to associate most with her afterglow. 

She tugs at his left forearm for him to join her at the head of the bed. 

Grinning, he uses his other hand to swipe at his glistening beard in a single smooth motion.

Dios. He is so sexy. 

Following her cue, he moves up her body, leaving errant kisses along her torso. She delights in the affectionate nuzzles he gives her nipples before he slides into the empty space next to her.

Turning to him, she lets her fingers brush against his beard, coated in her excitement.

“That was … incredible,” she says.

He smiles. 

She nuzzles his cheek, reveling in the comingling of their two scents on his facial hair.

“Natural beard oil,” she murmurs, giving him a lazy kiss on the mouth. 

He hums in response. 

“So hardworking, this mouth,” she mumbles through another kiss. 

He returns her kisses with equal languor. 

“And to think that I was supposed to be the one to not let _you_ sleep a wink.”

“There will be nights, Raquel.”

It is a promise.

✺

Pulling a sheet over their bodies, he lies down on his side facing her. 

His hand slips around her waist, as their noses almost touch on the shared pillow.

“Ready to sleep?” he asks.

Her fingers slide up his arm playfully. 

“Not yet.”

Sergio smiles knowingly but does not protest.

He is still wearing his pyjama bottoms and a part of her is tempted to reach inside to find him, but the atmosphere has changed yet again, and she finds herself content just observing him. 

He is handsome, true, but it is the way that he looks at her that allows her to lose herself in his eyes.

His gaze is as dark and deep as the ocean. 

He seems equally content to just look at her, and it warms her soul.

She lets her fingers caress his cheek. 

He closes his eyes and leans into her touch. 

Sighing, he drops kisses on her open palm. 

“Mhm?” she asks. 

He sighs again. “Just more … thoughts.”

“Mhm?”

He pauses for a moment, opening his eyes to meet hers. Then he clears his throat. 

“I know you’re here, but somehow … I still can’t believe you’re here. It’s absurd and … disconcerting.”

A part of her wants to reassure him of her realness with kisses and orgasms, but she is loath to interrupt this moment of him bearing his soul. 

“I feel like that too.”

“You do?”

She nods. “It all still feels a little surreal.” 

“But you were here just over a month ago,” he says, trying to rationalize this dreamlike feeling. 

She lets her fingers drift across his shoulder.

“Did you also feel like this the first time I came?” 

“A little. Did you?”

She nods.

“But now …”

“Mhm?”

He turns his gaze to the ceiling, perplexed.

“But now you moved here. You’re _really_ here.”

She watches in wonder as various emotions dance across his face. 

Misconstruing her silence, he tries to explain. 

“I’m sorry, I mean … it’s not that I doubted you or your intentions or your sincerity. It’s not that …”

“I know,” she whispers. 

He opens his mouth as if to say something, but nothing comes out. 

He looks down in embarrassment, and she feels his body tense beneath her touch. 

She lets her fingers drift to the nape of his neck and into his hair.

“There’s no rush. I’m here now,” she says, as her fingers caress him reassuringly.

He can tell her when he is ready. 

“Estoy aquí, Sergio. Estoy contigo.” 

His eyes find hers again, and now they are sparkling. 

“Say it again,” he pleads.

As she repeats the phrase, she hopes he can see the same words in her eyes. 

“Estoy contigo, Sergio. Por fin, estoy contigo.”

“Gracias,” he whispers, pressing his closed lips to hers. 

✺

Their foreheads touch, as their noses cuddle. 

His hand slides across her lower back, pressing into her skin soothingly. 

She sighs, content, letting her eyes close.

He inhales and exhales. 

“I have been waiting for this moment for more than a year,” he whispers.

✺

It is the first time that he has verbalized it so explicitly, and it finally dawns on her what waiting for her had truly entailed. 

It meant waking up every day, hoping that today might be _the day_. The day that she would find the hidden clue _and_ decide to give them a second chance. 

For three hundred and sixty consecutive nights, he had fallen asleep disappointed. 

The last thought makes her heart ache. 

It had been a long year for her too, but she had not been waiting. Not in the same way. 

She brushes her lips against his to acknowledge his statement.

His body shifts closer and she welcomes him, tangling her legs with his, as his arm holds her tightly.

He does not say it again, but his words from earlier in the day echo in her heart.

_You are worth the wait._

✺

He exhales, as his hold on her softens.

She lets her fingers move through his hair, stroking affectionately. 

“It would seem that you …” she begins.

His eyes, filled with curiosity, blink open to find hers.

“… attract long-term plans.” 

She sees his lips twitch, and then they slowly curl up into a genuine smile. 

“Well … I suppose I do.”

He hums, as his fingers trace shapes across her back. 

“Thank you for coming back,” he whispers.

“Thank you for waiting for me again.”

Their first reunion in Palawan had been a tornado of excitement and ecstasy that tore into a whirlwind of planning for the most important extraction of their lives. So much so that now might be the first time that they are reflecting _together_ on all the non-urgent things that making a new life on the other side of the world entails. 

Unlike before, tonight’s mood is laced with certainty, and their hushed tones make it all feel more intimate and authentic. 

“Thank you for accepting my mother and my daughter.”

“Thank you for accepting my maladjusted self.”

They whisper feelings they want to share, without needing a response or a negation that it is not a burden for the other. Because in reality it is not. 

But these are deep fears that have kept them tossing and turning in their darkest, lowest moments for far longer than they have known each other. 

To comfort themselves during the year they had spent apart, they tried to convince themselves that the short time that they had spent together during the heist was nowhere long enough for the other to realize the extent of their respective baggage. And that, if they had known each other for more than a week, all of their shortcomings would have come to light, and thus, shattering the bubble of love and passion they had created in so few days. This is how they consoled themselves, so that what they had lost would hurt just a little bit less. 

They reveal these fears now, craving for the certainty of the night to burn them to ashes. 

✺

She sighs.

How did he come to own every single key to the innermost chambers of her soul? 

He leans in to place a soft kiss on her cheek.

She sighs again. 

He drops another chaste kiss beside her mouth, and his hand gently nudges at her shoulder.

Smiling, she obeys his cue, lying down on her back, as he props himself on an elbow to make his task easier. 

She watches him, peppering her skin with the gentlest of kisses, as if directly answering her question.

Sergio just being Sergio right now touches her very soul, and an unexpected knot forms in her throat, as she feels her eyes mist. 

Of all his many qualities, it is his authentic generosity that disarms her the most. 

He never demands anything, and yet he accepts everything. 

It is like the universe, after royally fucking up, finally sent her the only man alive that she could ever fully trust. 

The wait to be with him has felt eternal.

Tears pool beneath her closed eyelids, as she feels her heart constrict with emotion. 

She finally gets to live her life with the best partner she never even knew how to wish for. 

His mouth moves to her ear, alternating between small kisses and small licks across every fraction of her skin. 

His fingertips dance across her chest, and his touch is so chaste that she finds it all the more erotic in contrast to his increasingly mischievous mouth. 

She turns her head slightly to give him better access to her neck, which results in a faint chuckle from him. Instead, her earlobe is between his lips, and he sucks slowly. Leisurely. 

She lets her fingers slide through his wavy hair, eliciting a small hum from him. 

The sound reverberates through her ear, and she feels so loved. 

Inhaling deeply, the knot in her throat finally relaxes, and she lets the tears spill down her face. 

Like Sergio and Paula earlier in the day, it is her turn to cry in relief. 

He looks up to meet her eyes, and whatever he sees makes him pause.

She smiles in response, nodding reassuringly, and then her fingers descend to the nape of his neck to draw him in for a kiss. 

Hungry to taste him again, her tongue slips between his lips, and she lets out a happy sigh. 

His tongue strokes hers unhurriedly, as his hand finds her hair. 

Unlike this afternoon, her tresses offer no resistance when he runs his fingers through them. He seems to enjoy the novelty too because he repeats the motion over and over again, moaning into her mouth.

She cannot help but compliment him. 

“You worked hard to get those knots out, didn’t you?”

He smiles, capturing her lips again. 

He tilts his head to the side, and she loves that he is the one bringing them closer.

He moans deeply, waking up the butterflies in her abdomen from their brief nap. 

There are not enough hours in the night to do everything that she has missed doing to him. 

Flirting, she withdraws her tongue, and without missing a beat, his follows hers, just like she knew he would. 

She suckles his tongue, and he groans into her mouth. 

His mouth pulls back to take a breath, as his forehead leans against hers. 

She has missed him so much. 

She has missed the intimacy of her forehead touching his, of him nuzzling her nose, of panting into his mouth when she is supposed to be catching her breath. 

She has missed everything about him. 

A flood of emotions invades her chest, as more hot tears flow freely down her cheeks, releasing every single anxiety about this trip that she has kept locked tightly in dozens of tiny chests in her mind. There are so many worries that they all blur together and she cannot keep track. It is just as well because she would rather focus on the man in front of her. 

He places a single soft kiss on her left cheekbone, and then another on the right cheekbone. 

His hands cup her face, and his thumbs brush her cheeks, drying her tears. 

Her heart swells again. 

Nuzzling her nose, his eyes meet hers, as he whispers.

“Ahora estás conmigo. Y yo estoy contigo.” 

✺

Leaning into his nuzzles with a hum, her fingers drift across his chest.

She flicks his nipple with tenderness, and he moans quietly.

His mouth finds hers, and she slips her tongue past his lips without preamble, as her palm slides down his ribs.

He groans more loudly this time, and she feels the heat between her legs intensify. She cannot wait to finally wrap her fingers around him again.

Her nail traces a circle around his navel, and then her fingertips glide down his lower abdomen. 

She feels his hand on hers, and his fingers slip between hers.

Dios. The thought of their hands touching him together turns her on even more. He is so much more adventurous in bed than one might think. 

But contrary to her sudden fantasy, he brings their joined hands to his chest, placing her fingers at his other nipple.

She flicks it gently, and he moans into her mouth again.

His hand cups her breast, rubbing his thumb across her hard nipple, and she gasps as a tingle runs through her. 

Her whole body is one fire today, and she is more than ready again. 

His thumb disappears from her body, and when he slips it between their joined lips, she attacks it hungrily, licking and sucking it with the same fervor she would another part of his body.

Pulling his hand away, he groans into her mouth again, as his wet thumb finds her other nipple, stroking it sensually.

His tongue slips into her mouth, as her hand loops around his head, pulling him closer.

Everything today feels like utter bliss. 

His nails graze along the lines of her ribs, and across the left side of her abdomen.

Reaching her mound of Venus, his fingertips twirl through the wisps of hair, playing with them the way he likes to do. 

His movements slow with each swirl until they stop, completely still.

She whimpers in frustration. She is not going to make it through anoth—

Pulling his mouth away, his eyes fix on hers, as his hand finally slides between her legs, cupping her sex.

Pressing the length of his middle finger against her slit, he crooks it slowly and his fingertip slips through her slick folds, making her gasp in surprise.

The intensity in his eyes grows in step with his hardening cock against her thigh.

Watching him watch her so intently while he touches her is one of her biggest turn ons.

His fingers slide up one side of her inner lips, and down the other, her slippery layers relishing every attentive stroke. 

“So wet,” he whispers. 

“Only for you.”

He growls, licking his lips, as his fingers trace her clit in large, slow circles.

She is so fucking aroused and impatient that she tilts her pelvis to increase the pressure. 

His fingertips follow her cue, and she lets her muscles relax again, focusing on the delicious sensations that build inside her.

“Bésame.”

His lips descend onto hers in time to swallow her moan, as his tongue plunges into her with a groan of his own. 

Dios. His mouth is a heaven of its own.

He rubs steady halos around her clit, and it feels like his fingers were created with the sole purpose of taking her over the edge. Over, and over, and over again. 

She wants to reach down for him, but his fingers and his lips move to the divine rhythm of the music, and it all feels so good that she gets lost in her own pleasure. 

The waves builds inside her, and she gasps for air.

“Sergio … Sergio …”

His fingers gain speed as he nuzzles her face, whispering.

“So fucking wet.”

Joder.

She moans loudly, and his mouth finds hers again. 

There is no universe in which Sergio talking dirty to her will ever fail to turn her on. 

She feels the rush of pleasure approach, and she arches her back in anticipation.

Suddenly, his fingertips abandon her clit and drift gently down her folds.

“What the fuck?!” she mutters, breaking off the kiss roughly and falling back onto the bed. 

This is the first time that he has failed to inform her in advance. 

She glares at him, trying to ignore his touch, but unable to tell him to stop.

His eyes avoid hers by roaming other parts of her face, but he struggles not to smile, as his fingers continue to move delicately along her layers.

She crosses her arms defiantly, wanting an explanation. “Mhm?”

“I thought it would be a shame to let so much … natural beard oil go to waste.” 

She raises her eyebrow. “ _You_ thought?”

“Well … yes.”

The combination of contrition and brazenness dancing across his features is surprisingly alluring, and she can no longer tell whether she wants to laugh, slap, or fuck him.

Maybe all three at the same time? 

Intriguing. 

His new level of boldness is making her very horny indeed. 

Time to find that orgasm again.

She lets one hand drift along her body to caress her breast and pinch her nipple. 

“Sergio …” she moans. 

She feels his length poke her thigh, as his fingers press into her delicate skin, sliding up and down her wet path. 

Moving her other hand to his groin, her fingers stroke him over his pyjama bottoms.

His breath hitches, and then he exhales, groaning her name.

“Raquel …”

“Sergio … por favor …” she begs.

His fingers finally return to her clitoris again, rubbing perfect halos into the engorged skin.

“Yes … yes ... yes,” she moans, feeling the residual feelings of his earlier touch quickly compound with the new sensation. 

Her fingers run down his length in smooth, repetitive motions. 

Raquel is rewarded with a breathy, “Dios!” and a fully hard erection beneath her touch. 

Everything about him right now turns her on, and she feels her climax mount as Sergio’s fingers move in flawless, steady motions. 

“Yes, more, more,” she rasps, rubbing her hard nipple.

Her other hand presses harder, knowing exactly how to excite him over the fabric without pushing him over the edge. 

She delights in knowing his body in the same way that he knows hers. 

“You make me so hard,” he groans, capturing her lower lip and puling it into her mouth.

Dios. Those fucking words. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” she moans, arching her back, as she feels the waves gather speed in the distance. 

Suddenly, his fingers glide down her slit, away from her clitoris. 

Again.

She groans in exasperation, falling back onto the bed and pulling her hand and mouth away from him. 

Anger bubbles inside her, and she is shocked at how different edging feels when she does not expect it, and she is not sure that she likes it. 

But she is willing to see it through to the end at least once, before deciding whether to ban it from her repertoire. 

Still unsure how to respond, she remains silent.

His fingers move to gently brush along her outer labia. 

Dios, he is always so fucking gentle at exactly the right moment. How is she supposed to stay mad?

His mouth drops hot kisses down her neck, and she gives in immediately, moaning loudly.

“Shhhhh,” he whispers.

He licks at her collarbone and then his open, wet mouth slides down her chest to her right nipple, as his body shifts to rest on bent knees. 

The surface of his tongue swirls around every fraction of her breast, his teeth grazing playfully at the wet skin. 

Everything he ever does is so fucking unbelievably hot that she does not even know why it keeps surprising her.

Maybe because he is so unpretentious about it all? 

The tip of his tongue traces around her wet areola, and then he sucks at her nipple. Once. Twice. Three times. 

She moans, more quietly this time, letting her fingers slip into his hair. 

Groaning into her skin, he continues suckling her nipple in repetition, as his tongue flicks against the hard tip.

He is so erotically dedicated, and she just feels hornier and hornier.

His fingers between her legs feel featherlike compared to his hot mouth on her skin, and she wants more of everything.

She thrusts her core against his hand.

Sergio’s fingers slip through her slit again, moaning as he slides up and down her extra slippery folds.

Her wetness really turns him on. 

And that turns _her_ on. 

Joder. She needs that orgasm. 

“The other one,” she commands.

His tongue licks down the valley of her breasts before finding her other nipple and lavishing it with his hot, wet attention. 

Raquel groans again, and then the palm of his big hand is on her mouth, silencing her. 

She has no fucking idea how he is managing to keep his weight off her, but the position will not be comfortable for long, and she just needs to fucking come as soon as possible. 

She moans against his hand to test the hush factor. The improvement is significant. 

Fucking genius. 

Thankfully, the genius’ fingers find her clit again.

He groans again, and she cannot comprehend how he has managed to retain control of his libido all night long. 

Could he have taken some kind of anti-aphrodisiac? Prescription drugs? Could they be dangerous? 

Her mind drifting to unsexy topics is usually the first warning sign of losing her climax to frustration or exhaustion, and usually both, so she refocuses her mind to the sensations in her body. 

It all feels good, but she needs more.

His hand prevents her from speaking, so she thrusts her pelvis into his other hand again.

He chuckles, increasing the pressure of the halos that he rubs over her clit.

His mouth enthusiastically suckles her sensitive nipple over and over again, as he moans into her skin. It inspires her to let one of her own hands play with her lonely breast while her other one roams through his hair.

Raquel revels in hearing him groan, and she feels the waves gathering in the distance.

She needs just a little bit more, but she is not taking any chances this time.

As the orgasm mounts inside her, she slows down her breathing and keeps her back firmly on the mattress. The hand in his hair moves lethargically, and she relaxes her legs. 

But she kneads her own breast sensually, and focuses her mind on his eager mouth sucking her sensitive nipple and his dexterous fingers rubbing her wet, craving, swollen clit. 

Dios! He feels so good against her skin.

Sergio groans again, and she has to stop herself from gripping his hair and tensing her legs.

The movements of his mouth and his fingers speed up, and many overlapping waves rise up inside her. She is so close.

Maintaining her composure with effort, she lets out a lazy sigh in encouragement, and his ministrations only become quicker and more coordinated. 

Familiar piano notes of her favorite song drift into the room, and finally, she can feel the waves of pleasure all surging towards her at the same time.

Her hand grips his bicep tightly.

_Don’t you dare move._

The rush of ecstasy amplifies as it charges at her, arriving closer and closer, until she finally falls off the edge, moaning against the palm of his hand.

His body twitches in surprise, but she digs her nails into his arm, and his fingers do not stop.

“Come for me again,” he whispers.

Trusting him, her body arches off the bed, as she comes and comes and comes and comes and comes and comes and comes, voicing one long perpetual moan.

His fingers move eagerly against her center, as his tongue swirls around her nipple energetically.

Tingles spread through her body, as ever more new pulses of pleasure find her.

Her eyes roll back in her head and she sees a whole universe beneath her eyelids. 

Raquel’s entire body trembles beneath his touch, shuddering and shaking, but Sergio’s ministrations do not waver. 

The new waves recede, as she feels more and more ripples wash over her, satisfaction reaching every nook and cranny of her being, over and over and over again. 

Her clitoris and nipple suddenly feel overstimulated, and she lets her body fall limp onto the bed.

Instantly, his fingers and lips stop moving.

Releasing her mouth, he props himself back onto his elbow, at eye-level with her. 

Reveling in the glorious relief of her mind-numbing orgasm, she watches him through half-lidded eyes.

He brings his glistening fingers to his mouth, sucking her juices off them, one at a time.

Dios. It is so erotic.

 _He_ is so erotic. 

She sighs with desire, and his movements slow in response.

Drawing her lower lip into her mouth, she reminds herself to breathe deeply.

She is just about ready to go again.

Joder.

✺

He snakes his arm around her mid-torso, tucking his fingers beneath her ribs to pull her closer to him.

She sighs, content. Snuggling in his arms is the best feeling. 

He nuzzles her nose playfully. 

“That was ingenious. Devious, but ingenious.” 

His voice is laced with awe, and she lets out a little laugh. 

“I was just fighting fire with fire.”

He concedes her point with a tilt of his head, and then he pauses for a moment.

“But … did you like it?” he asks seriously. 

“Well …” She considers how to express herself without discouraging him. “They jury’s still out on all that surprise edging, but …”

He waits expectantly.

“… I enjoy your boldness.” 

His eyes light up.

“Keep it coming,” she adds.

She can already see the wheels turning in his head. 

His face breaks into a cheeky grin. “Exhausted yet?”

Aiming to catch him off guard, she pushes his shoulder away from her, causing him to fall on his back, as she straddles his torso. 

It is her turn now. 

She looks him straight in the eye. 

“Not a fucking chance.”

✺

Inching down his body, she hovers above the tent created by his erection, before abruptly dropping down to sit on him.

He gasps. 

Grinning, she grinds her wet center against his pyjama-clad cock, observing his breathing become labored in just a few simple rolls of her hips. 

Sergio groans. 

“I just washed that pyjama set this morning.” 

It is an observation more than a complaint, and it must be his way of slowing down his waves of pleasure.

But it does not mean that she cannot tease him.

She lifts her hips just enough to lose contact with his length. 

“Are you complaining?”

His eyes go wide. 

“No, no, no! Absolutely not!” he exclaims, his hands landing on her knees in reassurance. 

“Good,” she drawls, letting her hips drop.

He gasps again. 

He must be close.

“You’ll be washing a lot of pyjama sets if you insist on wearing them while I’m horny.”

Amusement crosses his face, but he purses his lips, trying very hard not to express himself.

She rolls her hips against him, but more gently this time. “Mhm?”

He sighs in pleasure, but shakes his head.

She grinds into him again. Hard.

He gasps.

“Mhm?” she asks more demandingly. 

“Well, by your logic, I would never wear pyjamas because ...”

She raises her eyebrows, daring him to say it.

“… because you’re always horny.” 

She moves her hips again, puncturing every word with a roll. 

“And. You. Are. Not?” 

His eyes darken.

“I am … for you.” 

His words set her lower abdomen on fire.

The fucking pyjama has to go.

With a final roll of her hips, she slides down to his thighs, as her fingers reach for the waistband of his pants.

She chuckles at the circular shape of wetness that she has left on the white fabric around his crotch. 

Raquel tugs at the sides of the fabric as he lifts his ass to help her get it off. 

His erection springs free in all its glory, and she feels her mouth salivate.

Pulling the garment down his legs, she is distracted by his torso twisting as he reaches for something in the bedside table.

Finally throwing the pyjama onto the floor, she kneels next to his thighs, letting her eyes feast on the hardness that she provokes. 

His fingers slide around his own length, and he strokes himself slowly. 

Once. Twice. Three times.

Joder. 

Her breath hitches in her throat, and she aches to touch herself too.

She looks up to meet his eyes, and he looks as desperate as she feels. 

Spreading her thighs to give him a good view, she lets her own fingers slip into her folds.

His eyes go wide, and a guttural moan escapes him. 

Joder.

Watching him caress himself while he watches her do the same is beyond arousing. 

She forces herself to slow her own touch. She might only have one more orgasm left in her tonight, but she has yet to give him even one, and she can feel the exhaustion catching up to her.

Something brushes against her knee. 

She looks down, and it is a condom wrapper between his fingers. 

She looks up at him. 

“Already?”

He nods. 

She is both disappointed and relieved. Definitely more disappointed than relieved, but still. Fucking exhaustion. 

“Are you sure?”

He nods.

“There will be nights,” he repeats his promise. “And I’m so close.”

She feels her heart flutter as heat swirls inside her. She cannot tell which sensation is stronger. 

Leaning forward, her two hands land on the mattress on either side of his neck, as her lips descend onto his. 

She initiates a gentle kiss, licking and suckling softly on his upper lip, mildly distracted by the tickle of his moustache. 

His tongue slides along her lower lip, as his hands find her breasts, and he rubs her pebbled nipples between his fingers. It is the first time tonight that they have received the same attention at the same time, and her body delights in the symmetry. If he had two mouths, she would never let him get out of bed. 

She dips in and out of his mouth, and he mirrors her, their tongues and lips dancing enthusiastically. 

It is a wet, sloppy kiss that does nothing to betray the ticking of her exhaustion timer. He deserves it. 

Gently, she pulls back to look him in the eye. 

“Any special requests? Condom-free activities are also valid options.”

She wants him to choose whatever he wants the most.

He does not even have to think about it. 

“Ride me.” 

✺

Straddling his thighs, she bends down to place a chaste kiss on the shaft of his magnificent cock. And another. And another.

Letting her tongue join the fun, she runs its wide surface up his length.

“Raquel,” he warns her, but his voice is tinged with such desperation that she cannot even be annoyed. 

As much as she may want this, it is not what he asked for. 

Refocusing, she sits upright again.

Her fingers gently pull the remainder of his foreskin back, as her eyes glance up at him for any sign of discomfort.

Taking the already opened foil square that he holds out for her, she pulls out the lubricated rubber material.

Seven days. 

More like seven nights. Seven long nights. 

Checking that the condom is the right way up, she places it on his head. Pinching the tip of the condom, she ensures that there is enough space for his fluid, as she rolls it down his full length.

Lifting her hips, her knees inch up the sides of his body, stopping when she estimates her entrance to be just above his erection.

Meeting Sergio’s eyes, her fingers encircle him at his base, and she is delighted when his hand reaches down to rest on her knuckles.

His other hand finds her knee, and she slips her palm over his knuckles, wrapping her fingers over the side of his hand.

She squeezes his hand softly, and he smiles. 

The feeling of unity that she experiences with him is an orgasm of the soul. 

Guiding him to her, she lets his tip slide down her folds until he reaches her entrance. 

Hovering for a brief moment, she watches him watch their sexes meet again. 

The desire in his eyes is only matched by the blazing fire in her lower abdomen. 

Her hips descend slowly, letting him enter her inch by inch. 

They both groan deeply, almost at the same time. 

Hands move out of the way, and she sheathes him completely. 

He fills her, and she needs a moment to get used to him again. 

Dios. It has been too long. 

Too long to not have him inside her. Too long to not feel his skin against hers. Too long to not have his mouth on her lips. Too long to not have his fingers gripping hers. Too long to not elicit his moans. Too long to not make him grin. Too long to not even get to talk to him. 

It has been a fucking eternity. 

✺

Unable to communicate directly while she was in Spain, Sergio had devised an elaborate code system, where she picked out specific letters from random pieces of mail to form a phrase—a message from him.

For security reasons, the messages were only one-way, and neither timely nor relevant to the extraction. They were simply little notes to let her know that he was thinking about her. 

They came three times a week, and she had not been that excited to receive mail since she was a tween. 

They started off a little bizarre but cute, in Sergio’s own unique way. 

_The bamboo bar was closed today._

_The sea misses you._

_My cheeks don’t hurt from smiling._

_Thirty-three days._

_The house is quiet._

_The winter wonderland is ready._

Almost at the halfway mark, little by little the messages grew bolder.

_You whisper in my dreams._

_Your eyes, your skin, your taste._

_My lips on your lips._

_Your chest against mine._

_My hand in your hair._

_Your curves beneath me._

_Our fingers interlaced._

_Me between your legs._

_You enveloping me._

_Six days and five nights._

_My last beard trim was today._

The final message came the day before she left her old life behind.

_Come for me. Autocorrect error. Come to me._

✺

She rolls her hips against him, and he groans.

“Dios, Raquel.”

His free hand slides up her knee and up her thigh, but before his thumb can reach her center, she stops his hand, interlacing her fingers with his instead. 

Doing the same with her other hand, she locks her gaze with his, as she leans her upper body forward.

Surprise dances across his face, but he lets her pin him down nevertheless, their joined hands on either side of his head. 

She smiles. She loves pinning him down. 

Nuzzling his nose playfully and maintaining eye contact, she whispers in her sultriest voice.

“Come whenever _you_ want.”

His eyes darken and he looks like he wants to devour her. 

He likes her instructions, but he still asks, “And you?”

Her forehead rests on his, and she says, “I’m good, I promise. Just focus on you.”

She punctures her words with a slow roll of her hips, provoking a grunt from him. 

For extra motivation, she gives him another challenge.

“Show me just how much you don’t need an aphrodisiac.” 

He growls at her words, and she can see the desire burning in his eyes. 

Good.

She rolls her hips again, slowly.

His palms push against hers, their fingers still interlaced, as he effortlessly propels her upright again. 

She raises her eyebrows, and in response he places a kiss on each of her hands before releasing her fingers and returning his hands to her thighs, giving her a little squeeze.

Raquel wonders if he will indeed do what she has instructed. He is such a giving lover that he has never yet let himself come before ensuring that she was at least on the cusp herself. 

Her hands reach behind her back, and she lets her fingers dip between his legs, scraping her short nails against the inside of his thighs.

He inhales sharply, and she loves having this ability to catch him off guard like this, of surprising him in ways that he enjoys. It is a power she can easily get drunk on, and she does not think that he would mind.

His eyes are fixed on her, and she licks her lips generously, as she rocks her hips again.

Giving his legs another seductive scratch, she brings her hands to her breasts. 

His hands find her thighs, as his fingers slide along her skin. 

“Slow like that,” he rasps.

Her pelvis moves in unhurried, repetitive loops, forwards and backwards, forwards and backwards, as her fingers caress her own soft flesh, for his benefit as much as her own.

Eyes full of lust, he groans deeply, gripping her legs. 

He loves touching her thighs, and she loves that he loves them. 

He makes her feel so fucking beautiful. 

Moaning softly, she grinds against him leisurely, loving the raw intensity in his eyes that she has come to know so well. 

He groans in response, and so does she, and so does he, and so does she. 

Their breathy exhalations fuse into a soft beat of human satisfaction, sighing in unison to the gentle roll of her hips, prolonging his pleasure for as long as he wishes.

✺

He thrusts into her gently, and that is her cue.

Resting her hands on his shoulders, she leans forward, letting him slide out halfway.

Exchanging a nod, her hips fall back as his hips thrust upwards, and she feels her flesh collide with his as he fills her again.

They move together, reading the rhythm in each other’s eyes, as the noise of heavy breathing and skin slapping fills the room.

She has even missed the aggressive stings and sounds of this act because she knows it is Sergio crashing into her. 

Over and over and over again. 

Joder.

Moaning, she slips her hand between her legs, and she grips his shoulder for more balance. 

His eyes drift to her moving breasts, inches from his face, and his thrusts speed up, as do his moans.

“Joder,” he grunts. 

Her fingers rub her clit as she groans his name, rising and falling around him. 

“Sergio, Sergio, Sergio.”

“Raquel, joder, joder, joder,” he chokes out, shutting his eyelids tightly.

His palms land on her upper chest to support her, as he gestures at her left shoulder, almost yelling.

“Cover my mouth!”

Using her right hand instead, she covers his mouth with fingers coated in her own excitement.

His eyes go wide and his groans grow desperate, as his fingers grip her shoulders and his thrusts become erratic. 

He truly had been so close. 

She clenches her pelvic muscles as hard as she can, pushing against him with renewed energy, moaning his name the way he likes it. 

“Sergio … Sergio ...”

She is not going to come again, but in this very moment, she could not care less. 

She rides him and rides him and rides him and rides him and rides him.

And even as his thrusts lose momentum and his arms weaken, she still rides him.

Moving and moaning above him, she gives him everything that her body has to give, as the palm of her hand muffles his loud guttural groans.

✺

His fingers brush against hers, and she lets her exhausted body finally collapse into him. 

She buries her face in the crook of his neck, panting into his skin, as his hands slip around her waist, tightening around her. 

His lips brush against her ear.

“I fucking missed you, Raquel. I missed this. I missed everything.”

✺

She feels him soften inside her, as Sergio’s arms gently push her upright again.

His fingers hold the base of the condom against his penis, and she lifts her hips to let him slide out.

She crawls to the bedside table for a tissue, as he carefully takes the condom off and ties it. 

Handing him the tissue and kneeling by his hip, she delicately pulls his foreskin forward to its natural position. 

Bending down, her lips drop a chaste kiss on his wet tip, and avoiding the rest of his length, she trails pecks along his groin and up his abdomen. 

She feels his fingers get lost in her hair, and it seems he cannot keep his hands off her either.

A moan escapes her lips.

She wishes her desire for him and her energy levels would enter into a binding contract. 

Her lips move up his chest, and her tongue around his nipple makes him groan.

It is hard to tell who is more helpless, him or her. 

Back to peppering kisses, she moves up his collarbone and his neck until she reaches his mouth. 

She presses her lips against his, and he groans again, but neither mouth opens. 

Resting her forehead against his, she nuzzles his nose affectionately. 

“I’ll be right back,” she says, dropping another peck on his lips.

Sliding the canopy curtains aside, she reluctantly pushes herself off the bed to go pee. There is no place for a UTI in paradise. 

Picking up the empty glass from the bedside table, she glances back at him. 

Sprawled naked, he watches her with half-lidded eyes. 

Raquel smiles and turns to make her way to the bathroom. 

She feels her face break into a grin when she hears him echo her own words to her. 

“You better hurry.”

✺

Washing her hands, she looks at herself in the mirror.

She smiles.

She looks the same as the woman who looked at herself in the mirror a week ago. But she feels like a completely different person.

And her smile looks different. It looks more genuine.

Because it feels more genuine. 

Because it is more genuine.

Because of him.

✺

She walks back to the bed, and her path crosses Sergio’s in the middle of the room. 

They both slow down as their arms brush against each other, and her fingers intertwine with his.

He squeezes her hand softly, leaning in to nuzzle her temple.

Her lips land on his shoulder, flicking her tongue lightly at his skin.

They both sigh in unison.

“Go!” she whispers, grudgingly releasing his hand.

He drops a kiss on her temple before continuing towards the bathroom.

She watches him walk away.

The fingers that just held hers dance against his thigh. 

✺

Sergio has already rearranged the pillows on the bed, so she goes about straightening the sheets and folding the bedspread at the foot of the bed.

Noticing their discarded clothing folded on the chair, she briefly wonders whether to put on a nightgown, but her dilemma is short-lived. She expects him to return to bed fully naked, so she might as well return the favor. 

Climbing onto the bed again, she closes the canopy curtains behind her. 

She is not expecting any more orgasms, but she is not clairvoyant. 

Slipping beneath the sheet, she lets her eyes focus on the thatched roof. She has no idea what time it is, but the candles burned out long ago, and even the music has stopped. 

She hears the soothing roll of the waves, as a gentle glow resembling moonlight seeps into the bedroom. 

This really is paradise.

✺

She feels the mattress shift beneath her, and she turns towards him, blinking her tired eyes open.

Lying on his side, his eyes meet hers in the darkness. 

She snuggles up to him, tangling her legs with his. It feels so different now that it is skin to skin.

“Glad you’re not wearing pyjamas.”

He chuckles. “They are terrified of you now.”

She laughs. 

“But not me,” he clarifies solemnly. 

She cannot tell if this is supposed to be flirty as well as funny, but it does not really matter. She wants as much humor in her life as she can get. 

She strokes his cheek, loving the way his sideburns fuse into his beard.

He closes his eyes at her touch, as her fingers trace his powerful jawline. 

“Raquel …” he sighs, content.

She responds with a sigh of her own.

“Muchas gracias,” she whispers.

His eyes open. “For what?”

“For the door sign, the mattresses, the music …”

He smiles. 

“… the cream, the modified canopy, the–”

“You think it will help?”

She nods enthusiastically, and he grins. 

“You thought of _everything_.”

“I tried, at least,” he says, a hint of skepticism in his voice.

She caresses his cheek.

“Thank you for _everything_ today.”

He smiles. “Don't mention it.”

“I will mention it,” she insists, sliding her fingers into his hair. “You did so, so much.”

“Anything for you ... for the three of you.”

It is impossible not to believe him. 

“Sergio …” she sighs, happiness shimmering inside her. 

Leaning into him, their lips part at the same time and their tongues slip past each other’s lips. 

She pushes her torso flush against his, as his arm envelops her.

Moaning and groaning, their heads tilt to opposite sides to deepen their kiss.

Her heart thumps in her chest as his fingers slide down to squeeze her buttock, and she loves the deep groan that escapes his throat when she does the same. 

They nip and tug at each other, tongues licking and playing and competing and acquiescing, and Raquel feels like she is free falling through a groundless universe. 

She will never crash because there is no bottom, only an exhilarating descent with no end in sight. 

It is a thrilling rush of adrenaline without the fear.

It is a night of sweaty dancing in a summer dress, but her thighs do not chafe. 

It is making love with no worries about an unplanned pregnancy or an STI. 

He is an inebriating drug and she just wants more and more. 

And he promised there will be more. 

He will always give her more.

And she will not have to beg for it. 

He will give her everything.

He will give _them_ everything.

And even when he cannot, he will still try.

✺

She feels the exhaustion about to overwhelm her, as they pause to take a breath.

Everything feels like it is happening in slow motion. 

“Tired yet?”

She chuckles weakly. “I think it’s a mission accomplished.”

“Good,” he whispers, as she revels in the soothing feeling of his fingers moving across her lower back. 

She leans in for another kiss, and her lips move lazily against his.

She mumbles, “I’m so, so tired, but I can’t get enough of you.”

He reciprocates just as languidly and affectionately. 

“Can I tell you something?” he asks. 

“Mhm …”

He squeezes her waist softly, as he whispers, “I can’t get enough of you either.”

“Say it again,” she pleads.

“I can’t get enough of you, Raquel.”

She sighs at the way he adds her name at the end. 

“But there’s no rush anymore.”

He is saying and doing the most perfect things and she never wants him to stop. 

Yes, she wants to do everything _to_ him, but even more so, she wants to do everything _with_ him.

She wants to spend every second of every day just living a loving life. With him.

Their lips graze and brush against each other, caressing more than kissing, as exhaustion finally overtakes her.

“Estoy contigo,” are the last words she hears, and with her lips fused to his and her body safely entangled with his, her mind finally drifts into a peaceful sleep, filled with dreams of family days at the beach and passionate nights in the bedroom.

✺

_Our bedroom._

_Our family._

_Our new life._

✺✺✺


	6. Featherlike (Spanglish)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
> ✺
> 
>   
> ~ Sergio gives Raquel the attention she deserves. ~ 
> 
>   
> ✺
> 
>   
>  [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/190672350@N04/50708822238/in/dateposted-public/)   
>    
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> ~ This is the **Spanglish** version. ~
> 
>   
> Descriptions are in English, dialogue is in Spanish.
> 
>   
> I'm trying something new here, but I have no clue if it’s going to work or not.  
> If you read this version, I would be so grateful to hear from you, whether you liked it or not ♡  
> Concrit always welcome ♡
> 
>   
> 
> 
>   
>   
> Music to play while you're reading: [YouTube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ct45N6uRjhY) [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1Tev7XKLCr7Rs7YZPfkrfn)

✺

Raquel splashes her face with cold water. 

Quickly, she nudges at her eyebrows and gives herself a few sobering slaps. 

She feels awake and so beyond horny, but just in case. 

Using the glass on the other sink to drink some water, she fills it up again to take to him. 

He is going to need it. 

She cannot wait. 

✺

Back in the bedroom, she sees that the canopy curtains have been released from the bedposts and are pulled so firmly closed that she cannot see the bed between them. 

They are on the same page.

Finally.

Quietly, she slips between the airy linens. 

He is sitting on the other side, looking out the window. 

On her knees, she moves across the bed towards him. The bed shifts under her weight, but it remains firm. 

Excellent mattress indeed. 

Sergio turns to her, smiling. 

He is not wearing his glasses anymore, and she feels the heat in her belly intensify. 

“Agua?” she asks, extending the glass to him, which he accepts gratefully.

He gulps it down before placing it on the bedside table.

They really are on the same page. 

Still on her knees, she crosses the gap between them, and reaching her hands to his sides, she tugs his shirt up.

Chuckling, he obliges her by hoisting his arms above his head, and she pulls the garment off. 

She slips her arms over his shoulders, fully leaning onto him. 

Her chest and belly press against his bare back. 

“Quería sentir tu piel contra la mía.” 

He hums in response.

Nuzzling his sideburn, she returns his hum.

“¿Cómo te sientes?” he asks.

“Revitalizada.”

“Me alegro.”

“Y completamente despierta.” 

She lets her teeth graze his cheek playfully. 

“Supongo que no hice un buen trabajo. Se suponía que era un masaje relajante.”

“No podría haberlo disfrutado más,” she says, accompanying her words with three small kisses on his cheek.

His face turns to hers with a half-grin.

Her hands give his forearms a reassuring squeeze, as she lets her face slide against his tickly beard until they are cheek to cheek.

He hums, pleased. 

“Me alegra que te haya gustado tu primera–” 

He cuts himself off.

“¿Mi primera qué?”

He does not respond. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see his lips purse together.

Gently, she nudges her body against his and tries again. “¿Mi primera qué?”

He sighs in resignation. “Tu primera sorpresa.” 

Raquel turns to look at him. “¿Hay más?” 

“Esta noche no.”

“¿Y mañana?”

“Tal vez.” His shoulders slump beneath hers. “Pero ahora he estropeado la sorpresa.” 

He is too pure for this world.

“Ha sido un día largo para ti también,” she whispers.

Her arms cross in front of him, and, pressing her naked front to his bare back, she pulls him into a tight hug. 

“Y no has estropeado _nada_.” 

He lets out a skeptical grunt. 

He has such high expectations of himself.

She needs a different approach.

“En realidad …” 

She lets the words hang to pique his curiosity.

He does not disappoint. 

“¿En realidad qué?”

“En realidad, ahora tengo muchas más ganas de despertarme mañana.”

He chuckles weakly. 

He knows her game, but he appreciates it anyway. 

Good. 

He taps her arm gently, and when she loosens her embrace, he turns to look at her.

“¿Y ahora estás completamente despierta?”

Opening her eyes wide, she nods vigorously.

She feels like a cartoon character, but the stakes are too high to allow for any misunderstandings. 

He chuckles. “Puedes parar ahora. Te creo.” 

She laughs, leaning her forehead to his temple. “Gracias a Dios.” 

“¿Sabes lo que esto significa?”

“¿Mhm?” she asks. 

“Tendré que encontrar otras formas de cansarte.”

His mission statement is like adding dry wood to the growing flame inside her. 

He likes a challenge, but so does she. 

Fixing her eyes on his, her fingers dig into his arm. 

“Sólo si no te canso primero yo.”

He looks at her for only a moment before lunging at her hungrily.

She receives him eagerly, as their bodies topple onto the bed.

He is on top, and then she is on top, and then he is on top again, rolling from one end of the bed to the other.

Dios.

This. This. This.

This shared moment of being fully alive together is what she has been craving since the moment she left Palawan. 

Sergio has gone from _nada de sexo porque apenas estás consciente_ to _déjame agotarte con sexo_ , and she knows that he will reverse that direction if the circumstances call for it.

She makes a mental note to inform him that waking her up with oral sex is perfectly acceptable. 

Desirable even. 

Except maybe when she is on her period. 

Sergio is the lover from all her wildest fantasies.

He will never hurt her like she was hurt before. 

He respects her as a lover. 

He respects her as a partner. 

He respects her as a human being. 

He once told her that he had never felt such a strong desire to feel alive as when he was with her. 

It is different for her. She has felt alive for as long as she can remember. But she has not felt safe to inhabit that space in a long, long time.

His respect allows her to exist in the world in the same way that she exists in her own head. 

Fully alive. 

✺

“Raquel, Raquel,” he protests into her eager mouth, trying to pull away, even if she does not want him to. 

Lying diagonally on the huge bed, they have been kissing for barely five minutes, and he already wants a break.

¿Qué? 

Reluctantly, she releases her grip around his neck, and his lips leave hers. 

He is propped on his right elbow next to her, with a knee between her thighs, his face hovering just above hers.

She avoids his eyes by looking up at the thatched ceiling.

He chuckles.

She sighs in exaggerated exasperation.

His hand drifts to her chin, as his thumb and index finger trace her jawlines.

Her eyes drift to his again, defiant.

“No quiero hacerte daño,” he says softly. 

It almost sounds like an apology, and she is both charmed and frustrated by his earnestness.

“Cuanto más me beses, antes me acostumbraré.”

“Es una actitud muy hedonista.”

“¿Y?”

“Y yo prefiero un método gradual y preventivo.”

“Bueno, es _mi_ cara, ¿no?”

He pauses. “Ese no era mi punto exactamente, pero es verdad.”

She remembers how upset he was with himself her second day in Palawan. He had no idea what his beard could do to her face during a 24-hour sex marathon, especially after a recent trim, and she had been so eager after a year without him that she would have kissed him until her skin bled. 

Not that she thought that was a healthy approach. That was just how little she cared about the consequences. 

He changes tactics. 

“¿Y qué le vas a decir mañana a Paula cuando te pregunte por qué tienes la cara roja?”

¿Acaba de utilizar a Paula como un comodín?

She props herself up onto her elbows in defiance. 

“¿Y qué le vas a decir _tú_ a mi madre cuando te pregunte por qué no me besaste lo suficiente?”

He stares her down. 

She stares him down.

Their eyes bore into each other.

She giggles first. 

He chuckles right after.

“Tenemos actitudes muy diferentes hacia la vida,” he states matter-of-factly.

“Por eso somos un buen equipo.”

“Efectivamente.”

She lets her nose brush against his. Slowly.

He returns the gesture. Once. And again. 

Hands at their sides, they let their faces graze and trace each other’s in a gentle dance of noses and cheeks. 

He switches regularly between the two sides of her face, perhaps to even out any potential beard burn. 

It is all soft and delicate and affectionate and romantic. 

She does not think she could love him more if she tried.

Their necks join the fun, and then they are nuzzling. 

Like cats who like each other.

Brushing. 

Stroking.

Caressing.

Loving. 

The mellow music envelops her in a fluffy cloud of harmonies, and Raquel feels truly cared for. 

✺

“Y hablando de equipos …”

“¿Mhm?”

His eyes fix on hers. 

“Lisboa …” 

Smiling widely, she bites her lower lip. 

The three simple syllables are probably worth a whole conversation, but it is a topic for another day. 

Tonight, she just wants to love him.

He seems to agree because he leans into her ear.

“Me gusta.” 

Dios. She loves flirting with him as much as she loves making love to him. 

Her hand moves to cup him over his pyjama bottoms. 

“¿Ah sí?”

He is more than half hard now.

“¿Y cuánto te gusta?”

Instead of pushing into her hand, his hips pull back, out of her reach.

His dark eyes burn with an intensity she knows well.

“Déjame mostrarte.” 

His words are an incantation that sets her on fire. 

✺

Hovering above her, Sergio’s mouth finally descends onto hers again.

His lips graze hers, moving gently from left to right, and back again. 

Slowly.

Softly. 

Deliberately. 

She parts her lips for him, but he does not follow her cue. 

Instead, his mouth drifts farther, peppering tiny, gentle kisses across her cheek.

On any other day, she would take the reins, but something about his touch reminds her to be patient. 

It calls to mind that haunting phrase from a self-help book she leafed through once. 

_¿Cómo puede alguien hacer algo por ti, si siempre te adelantas, haciéndolo todo primero?_

Besides, he never disappoints.

She feels his fingertips brush along her collarbone, moving across her skin with a featherlike touch. 

His caresses are like Sergio himself.

Subtle.

Meticulous.

Considerate. 

Giving. 

Covering her face in kisses, his lips move along to her jaw and neck. 

His tongue makes itself known as he alternates enticing licks with innocent pecks. 

His fingertips move again, slowly tracing the curve of her shoulder, while his mouth drifts leisurely down her neck.

He shifts a little lower, her left clavicle now receiving generous attention from his graceful lips. 

There is a small pause when he reaches her throat, and his hot breath drives her wild. 

His tongue encircles the tiny dip between her collarbones, and then glides into it smoothly. 

It is a tiny preview of what is to come. 

“Sergio …”

The moan comes out louder than expected, and he chuckles.

“Shhhh.”

The only double-edged sword of their new home is its bamboo and wood construction.

Oh well. She will just have to be quieter in expressing her satisfaction. Or more creative.

His lips proceed to her other clavicle and a few moments later he is dropping kisses on her shoulder, as his fingers dance across her chest, outlining gentle waves across her skin.

She feels like he has barely touched her, and yet desire already clouds her mind. 

He sprinkles kisses down to her elbow, as two fingertips slide down her sternum, and she shivers at the faint scratch of his nails between her breasts.

Craving for more, she lets her fingers slide into his soft hair.

He moans into her skin.

Dios. She loves his moans.

His fingertips draw big circles around her left breast, matched by the trail of chaste kisses that his lips leave around her right breast. 

The circles so large and languid that she only notices them becoming smaller when his touch approaches her areolas.

His gentle nails graze her warm skin in tandem with the light scratches from his bearded mouth.

The tip of his tongue joins his lips, and feeling that hot, wet part of Sergio on her sensitive skin again sends a shiver up her spine. 

The concentric circles lull her and excite her at the same time. 

Each touch is different but so delicious, and it is impossible to decide which she enjoys more. 

His halos finally reach her nipples, and his teeth join the fun. 

By now he knows the exact way that she likes to be touched, and he grazes her sensitive flesh with such creativity that she feels the heat pool between her legs. 

If he continues like this, she might come just from this magical featherlike touch. 

She lets out a sigh that is, again, much louder than she anticipated.

His eyes look up at her in surprise. 

She bites her lip in an embarrassed apology.

He smiles, his dark locks falling messily at his forehead.

He is so adorable. 

She gives him a small nod and scrapes her fingers across his head, nudging him to continue. 

His mouth closes, but not around her nipple like she had hoped. 

Instead, he peppers small kisses along the inside of her breast, joined with playful licks, as his lips move across the valley and onto the inside of her other breast. His fingertips follow the reverse trajectory.

Her breasts are once again caressed by his glorious circles, and even knowing the outcome, the anticipation he creates makes her hot all over again.

She has a fleeting thought that, of course Sergio is meticulous enough to ensure symmetry even when, or especially when, he is teasing her like this.

She feels his hard length nudge at her leg, and as heavenly as his gentle touch is, she cannot be the only one veering on the border of frustration. 

He circles her breasts with his tongue and nails once again, and it occurs to her that there is no grabbing, no squeezing, no pressing, no sucking. 

She enjoys all of those things, in part because there is so much give and take. 

But this, right now, is different. 

Just like the massage, everything is entirely for _her_ benefit. 

For her senses. 

For her pleasure. 

The realization embraces her soul, as Raquel finally allows herself to fully surrender to the paradise that he is creating for her. 

✺

His mouth travels down her body, tracing the edges of her ribcage with light kisses, accompanied by the airy touch of his fingertips. 

He delivers faint pecks all across her upper abdomen, avoiding the adhesive bandage, but delicately brushing his lips all around it.

Moving lower, he pauses at her navel and languidly encircles the hollow spot with his tongue. 

Excitement mounts inside her, as she lets her fingers roam through his hair. 

She sighs his name. 

“Sergio …” 

He groans in response, his focus on her body unwavering.

Withdrawing his tongue, he drifts to the other part of her lower abdomen to drop little kisses there. 

His lips make a loop across her skin, finding her navel again. 

The tip of his tongue draws slow circles around the center of her belly. 

He travels around the edge of her navel over and over and over again, and the wet touch combined with his hot breath gives her goosebumps. 

His tongue dips inside the gap and it is so unexpected that another moan escapes her lips. 

She can feel his lips curve into a smile as his beard tickles her skin, and she smiles too.

How is everything he does so unbearably sexy?

She is loving it. 

She is loving him. 

She loves him.

So much. 

She is fully awake, and there really is no rush anymore. 

He flicks his tongue, playing with her navel, while his hand traces her hip, descending to her thigh.

His tongue disappears from her skin again, as his lips move to kiss along the waistband of her underwear.

She cannot wait for him to pull them off her. 

He shifts his body lower, his mouth leaving kisses along her hip and thigh, as his fingertips follow in tandem across the other side of her body. 

Drifting out of her reach, she feels him caress her knees with reverence. 

His fingertips once again feel like feathers, and his lips graze leisurely against her skin.

She watches him deliver every stroke and caress, in awe of his thoroughness. Every now and then, she catches glimpses of his face, and the deep concentration in his features completely disarms her.

Never in her wildest dreams could she have imagined a man ever treating _her_ like this. This was for fictional heroines and for women who were not her. 

His tongue and teeth meet her skin once again, flitting and nibbling at one knee and then the other. His movements are slow and methodical, and yet unbearably sensual. 

He devotes such a long time to this part of her body that her knees start feeling like an erogenous zone being discovered for the first time. 

His fingertips travel down one shin, as he leaves a trail of kisses down the other, and she feels another tingle run up her spine. 

His kisses drift to her ankle, and then spill over to the bridge of her foot. 

She is particularly moved when his lips leave a kiss on her left pinky toe, and then on all her other toes. 

Sergio has covered her entire body in kisses, and this is the first time in her life that she has felt truly worshipped. 

That she has allowed herself to be worshipped. 

That her partner has insisted that she be worshipped. 

Because Sergio worships her. 

In her entirety.

From the hairs on her head to her pinky toes. 

Sergio worships her.

✺

Covering the tops of her toes in kisses, his lips move down the bridge of her right foot. 

Yet, he does not stop there. He turns his attention to the sole of her foot, dropping pecks on the underside of each toe at a time. 

The nitpicky part of her brain is grateful that she has spent most of her time on one bed or another since she showered and washed her feet.

Since _he_ washed her feet.

At this point, can her life get any better?

His lips move to the ball of her right foot, and then down her arch, and then he kisses her heel. 

Contrary to the pattern he has established on the rest of her body, his fingertips do not match his lips for symmetrical balance. Instead he strokes the sides of her calves in smooth, repetitive motions. 

His fingers avoid the soles of her feet because he remembers that she is ticklish, and this is yet another reminder of how this whole evening has been solely for her.

 _Is_ solely for her.

Her heart fills with warmth. 

His lips move to the heel of her left foot, and she refocuses her eyes on him.

She sees his upper body, and it is the first time that she realizes he is no longer on the bed. 

The bed is big but not big enough for them both at this angle.

He is kneeling on the floor, while he bathes her feet in his adoration.

Her full heart fills with love just a little bit more. 

His kisses move along the arch and ball of her left foot, and then his lips land on the underside of her toes, giving each one individual attention. 

Dropping a last peck on her pinky toe, he rests his chin lightly on the ankles of her open feet. 

He looks directly at her.

She feels her breath catch, anticipating his next move with excitement. 

Her eyes locked on his, she lets the tip of her tongue slide along her lower lip. 

Slowly.

He growls, his eyes devouring her. 

As long as she lives, she will never tire of being looked at like that. By him.

Only him. 

She hopes that he can see the same in her eyes. 

Feeling hot and ready, she watches him, as his lips scatter kisses along the inside of one ankle, while his fingertips brush against the skin of her outside ankle. 

The consistent pairing of his featherlike strokes mesmerizes her senses.

She feels drunk on his touch, fully under the influence of his copious caresses. 

His mouth grazes the inside of her other ankle, and his fingers follow suit.

As his nails caress the outsides of her legs, he lets his face brush her inner calf with the side of his face, showering her leg with catlike affection. 

It so adorable. 

His beard feels perfect against her calves, and she lets out a happy sigh.

He repeats the movement on her other calf, but he also adds a little nudge of his nose, that she might have missed if all her senses were not attuned to every movement of the man at her feet.

She is more than happy to oblige, as she parts her legs lazily, just enough for him to continue his upward trajectory.

She is eager but unrushed, lulled into the comfort of his slow-motion orbit.

It feels exactly right for this moment, and yet so unlike anything she has ever felt in bed before. 

Like the first time she saw snow fall as a child. So new and awe-inspiring, and yet so natural. 

She feels different because he is different. 

Everything feels different because their situation is indeed different tonight. 

There is no urgency because it is the first time that they both know, without a shadow of doubt, that there will be many more nights to come. 

✺

She watches him move up her legs, his facial hair grazing along her upper calves, as he climbs back onto the bed. 

He leaves many unhurried kisses along the insides of her knees while his fingertips caress her thighs. 

The increasing friction of his beard against her skin whenever he approaches her lower thighs tells her he needs more space, but she surprises herself when she realizes that she prefers to delay until he asks. 

Awaiting the moment of him asking, excites her. 

His beard and lips roam the spaces where her calves meet her thighs, with his tongue occasionally slipping out to lick at the underside of her knee. 

He spends a long time worshipping every section of her knees again, and it occurs to her that he might be waiting for her. 

She sighs contentedly for his benefit as much as her own, and then she feels another gentle nudge of his nose against her lower thigh. 

Smiling to herself, she allows her legs to drift open a little more.

He gives her a little hum in response, and she both hears it and feels it on her skin, and it sends many warm tingles up her spine. 

She wants him to do whatever he has envisioned, and for once, she is letting herself fully savor the anticipation of being taken imminently, just not yet. 

Slipping his arms beneath her knees, he leaves a familiar trail of kisses along her skin as he moves higher and higher along her inner thigh, while his fingers match the movement on the outside of her legs.

His lips merely brush against the fabric of her underwear, but it is enough to send another tingle up her spine. 

Too soon, he shifts to her other leg and his beard tickles her sensitive flesh, as he drifts south. The fingers of his other hand work in complement, also sliding down. 

Having reached her knee, he begins to move upwards again, but this time his mouth is half-open and he leaves big, wet, sloppy kisses on her skin.

It is a wholly new sensation after all the chaste, featherlike touching, and that familiar stir in her lower abdomen feels like a raging fire. 

She lets out a whispered moan.

“Sergio …”

She is desperate to touch him, but he keeps drifting out of her reach. 

His lips are joined by his tongue, licking at her skin generously between each kiss, while his fingers press into her skin.

She feels his beard scrape deliciously against her upper thighs as his face moves through the narrow space between her legs, dropping a single kiss onto her underwear. 

Turning to her other thigh, the trail of his wet kisses moves downwards again.

She wonders when the anticipation will finally end because she is beyond ready.

Once at her knee, his mouth again moves to return the same way it arrived, except now his lips are wide open, dragging his full mouth and tongue across her skin, already moist from his wet kisses. 

The change in touch is so exhilarating and she moans again. 

His hands rest just below her hips, holding onto her fiery flesh, as his mouth nibbles and sucks unapologetically at her inner thigh. 

“Dios … Sergio …”

She moans again, and it is not a whisper this time. 

“Shhhhh …”

He continues to move, the delicious friction of his beard only increasing with his ascent. 

Desperate with desire, she is not sure how much longer she will be able to wait. 

Reaching her upper thigh, his mouth drifts to press his lips against her clit. 

“Así … Sergio … así …”

He responds with a deep groan, but her pleasure is short-lived as he moves to her other leg, dragging his wet, hot mouth across her excited skin. 

She lets out a sigh of frustration.

As if waiting for that specific cue, he nudges at her upper thigh.

She moans in relief, this time letting her legs open wide, inviting him fully in.

He smiles against her skin, his mouth continuing to drag, lick, nibble, and suckle down the sensitive expanse of her thigh. 

Her arousal feels so intense, and her whole body begs for release.

How is he able to turn her on to such dizzying heights?

“Sergio … por favor …”

Mercifully, his mouth starts moving upward yet again, as his tongue leaves another wet trail along her inner thigh. 

Reaching the line where her thigh meets her center, he licks generously along the contours of her panties, and all she can think about is closing her thighs around his head and pushing herself into him.

Joder. 

She really, really wants to see his plan through, but she only has so much self-control left.

Switching to the other leg, he follows the same pattern, licking and sucking her hot skin, as his fingertips press into both sides of her ass. 

Another whispered moan escapes her lips. 

His tongue flicks and nudges at the elastic, and just as she thinks he is going to finally slip underneath, he shifts to the middle, pressing his whole face against the narrow piece of cotton that shrouds her core. 

Finally.

She moans so loudly that for a moment she thinks the whole house must have heard.

It is but a fleeting thought because the man between her legs commands all her attention, and she is more than a willing participant.

Now that he is where she needs him to be, she lets her fingers slide through his hair again. 

It feels so good to touch him.

Pressed against her, he inhales deeply.

The act is so simple and yet so sexy, and her hold on her own patience is by now flimsy at best.

He exhales with a loud moan directly into her center, and the sensation reverberates through her insides. 

“Dios, Sergio …”

Even through the material, she feels every curve and feature of his face against her center. 

She revels in the sensation, realizing that this is possible only because her underwear is completely wet. 

Because _she_ is completely wet. 

Because he has completely disarmed her with his warm eyes and featherlike touches. 

She has never been more aroused.

Desire pulses through her veins, as she moves her pelvis to give him a gentle nudge. 

She is holding on by a mere thread to not rub herself into his face. 

He follows her cue, giving her clitoris a nuzzle. 

Even through the cotton, she already feels a flash of pleasure. 

“Más, más,” she rasps.

He obliges instantly, letting his nose nudge at her center. 

Again. And again. 

The bolts of pleasure compound, and she can feel the waves in the distance.

“Sergio, ¡más!”

¡Coño! She is being so loud.

Her hand grabs at a pillow, and she pulls it onto her shoulder.

His mouth finds her clit through the fabric, and he encircles it with his lips. 

He gives her one long suck, and then she is arching her back, grabbing at his hair, and groaning into the pillow. 

He draws on the sensitive spot once again. 

Twice. 

Three times. 

Four times. 

And then she is coming, waves of pleasure crashing against her over, and over, and over again.

She can see all the stars, as release spreads through her entire body. 

A feeling of weightlessness envelops her. 

She lets herself go limp, and he matches her stillness.

Floating on clouds, she revels in the contact of his body between her legs and his palms against her skin. 

His touch is warm. 

Grounding. 

Undemanding. 

He is just there. 

With her.

_Estoy contigo._

✺

When she opens her eyes again, he is watching her. 

With a soft smile and a look of wonder in his eyes. 

He seems just as surprised as she is. 

The first orgasm has never happened to her like this before. This quickly. With him. Or with anyone else. Maybe not even with her own self. 

But no one has _ever_ covered her in featherlike kisses from head to toe before either. 

“¿Sigues despierta?” he murmurs.

“Más que nunca.”

“No estoy cumpliendo mi misión.”

She chuckles.

“Si la cumples, perderás tu premio.”

“Sólo hasta mañana, espero,” he says shyly.

Mollified by her orgasm, her hand caresses his face languidly. “Yo todavía tengo esperanzas para esta noche.”

He smiles, dropping a kiss on the wisps covering her mound of Venus.

With his eyes on hers, his fingertips trace the waistband of her underwear.

She nods emphatically.

With a glint in his eye, he flicks lazily at the edges of the panties.

“¡Quítamelas!” she rasps.

His eyes darken at her verbal cue, and his fingers finally reach for the sides of the elastic band.

She lifts her hips, as he attempts to pull the garment down, but the unfeasibility of that plan becomes immediately apparent. 

With him sprawled between her thighs, Sergio is on a direct collision path with her panties. 

Lifting one leg up, she lets it move through the air above him as gracefully as possible, until it meets her other leg at his side. 

He adjusts, hovering his upper body above her legs, as his fingers drag the white cotton down her legs.

Slipping them past her ankles and heels, he places the garment on the bottom far side of the bed. 

Meeting her gaze, he gives her a shy smile.

She smiles back. 

Sex is clumsy gymnastics half of the time, but love and passion soak up all the awkwardness. 

✺

His fingers move lazily between her calves, grazing her skin in soothing motions, as his eyes drift down her torso to the wisps of hair that protect her center.

She is so eager for what she expects to happen next that she feels a flash of disappointment that her legs are closed. Again. 

Deliberating whether to take the reins or see if has anything else planned for her _before_ she takes the reins, his hand slides up between her legs, brushing along her knees and lower thighs.

She sighs enthusiastically. 

His fingers move further north. 

He is so close, and she sighs again. 

He looks up at her expectantly.

She looks back at him innocently.

He grins. He knows what this means. 

“Raquel …”

She bites her lip. “¿Mhm?”

“Abre.”

Dios. His one-word commands never fail to make her weak in the knees. 

She opens her legs a little.

He looks up at her in surprise.

She raises an eyebrow. Let him get a taste of his own medicine. 

“Más,” he orders.

She opens them by another fraction. 

“Más,” he rasps. 

Her mind fogs with need at the mere sound of his voice, and she opens a little bit more. 

He lets out an exasperated groan, but his thumbs press into her inner thighs, and a fierce determination laces the features of his face. 

She licks her lips, waiting. 

“Ábrete para mí, Raquel.”

It is to his impatient growls that she spreads herself fully open. 

Without an ounce of hesitation, he is between her legs again. 

Sliding his arms beneath her knees, his hands land on her hips. 

It feels like he is anchoring her for what is to come. 

Anchoring himself. 

Anchoring them both. 

The context is completely different from the same act earlier in the day, but the feeling is the same. 

She is his tether, and he is hers.

✺

She lies inches from his face, wide open and fully exposed.

He observes her.

His eyes lavish her sex with admiration, languidly moving up and down and across, and back again. 

He licks his lips once, and again, and his eyelids droop a little. 

There is even a quiet groan that escapes his lips. Just from looking at her. 

His unapologetic adoration of her vagina is heartwarming and fire-starting in equal measure. 

She runs her fingers tenderly through his hair, while the nails of her other hand graze up his left knuckles, tracing slow, random patterns across his skin.

He surprises her by letting go of her hip and turning the inside of her hand to meet hers.

She feels his fingertips tickle her palm, so she does the same to his. 

Her nails scrape gently against his inner wrist and when he does the same, she hums. 

There is something unique about the way they are touching now.

He feels it too because his gaze finds hers. There is still hunger, but even more so, warmth. 

All the emotions that they do not yet have the words for are captured in their eyes. 

His fingers venture up her inner forearm, giving her access to his, and their forearms and fingertips sway across each other’s skin, revolving around one another in a magical dance of hands she has never experienced before. 

The movements are playful and lighthearted and so delightful, and she loses herself in the dark eyes that speak to her in a language only her heart understands.

✺

Sergio’s eyes drift down to her sex again, and she finally feels the tip of his hot tongue against her sensitive flesh.

It has been so long. 

“Sergio,” she sighs in relief.

His name on her lips never fails to encourage him, and he leans closer, pressing his whole face into her.

Dios.

Her fingers move through his hair, and her thighs hug him instinctively. 

Lightly, he shakes his head left and right, and up and down, repeating these gentle nudges against the wet skin so thirsty for him.

His beard scratches deliciously against her center, and with her own neatly trimmed hair protecting her, the friction here is nothing but pure delight. 

“Sergio …”

His tongue comes out to play again, sliding up along her left folds and descending down the other side. 

He repeats the motions slowly and steadily, lapping up the wetness that has saturated her layers since he started with his featherlike kisses.

But there is nothing featherlike about his touch now. His movements are leisurely, but assertive, born of experience in knowing precisely what she likes. 

His tongue licks her little hood generously, but never lingers, preferring to descend and fondle her inner lips, alternating between using the tip and the full surface. 

He gives her entrance the same attention, never pausing for too long, but showering it with wet, sloppy consideration nonetheless. 

Still sensitive from her first orgasm, her heated skin appreciates the unhurried pace of his delectable caresses.

A lazy moan escapes her lips. 

He groans in return, as his tongue continues its exploration of her layers, fraction by fraction, tasting her like a famished man having a meal again but wanting it to last. 

Seeing him between her legs, witnessing him enjoy her so brazenly in the candlelight, only heightens her enjoyment. 

His open tongue slides down her inner lips again, and he draws one into his mouth, sucking and licking the sensitive layer. 

The change in touch is so exhilarating that she moans again. 

“Así … Sergio … así …”

Her nails scratch against his forearm, and he groans into her loudly.

He moves to her other lip, bathing her juices with those of his mouth. 

She relishes every stroke of his tongue, every suckle of his lips, and every brush of his beard against her hungry sex. 

Sliding up and down her layers again, his tongue moves with more pressure, and she feels the heat gather inside her, her body promptly reacting to his obvious intentions. 

“Más … Sergio … más … ”

He rewards her when his tongue pauses on her hood, and his lips encircle her most sensitive point of pleasure, sucking eagerly.

It feels so, so, so, so, so good. 

She pulls at his hair to keep him in place. 

“No te atrevas a moverte.” 

He responds with such a deep groan against her clit, that she can feel a definite trickle of wetness slide down her sex.

Dios. What is he capable of doing to her? 

She can already feel her orgasm take form again. 

Fingers that previously danced around her skin, now grip her forearm in reassurance.

She grips his in return, and he groans again, as his mouth flicks and licks and sucks and circles.

“Así … más … así …”

His upper body adjusts slightly, as the hand on her hip disappears.

And then she feels his fingers trace her entrance.

“¡Joder!” she rasps, the mere prospect driving her wild.

His mouth sucks her clit, as two fingers enter her slowly. There is no resistance because she is so fucking wet.

His fingers slide in and out in perfect rhythm with the ministrations of his mouth, and the waves of pleasure approach quickly. They always do the second time around. 

“Así, así, así,” she rasps, finding the pillow again and burying a multitude of consecutive groans into it. 

She is close, and he knows it, and so he sucks eagerly as his fingers pump in and out, while his other hand holds her tightly.

The giant wave advances, and she digs her nails into his skin in anticipation of the pleasure invading her body.

Finally it overwhelms her, and then she is coming, coming, coming, as Sergio’s mouth continues to suckle, his fingers finally crooking inside her, bringing a new devastating wave of ecstasy. 

Her toes curl, and the release compounds, spreading through her body, as her climax continues.

“Sergio, Sergio, Sergio …”

Gasping and moaning his name, she thrashes against him, but he holds onto her, his ministrations never wavering, as he rides out the extended orgasm with her. 

When her tense muscles fully relax, his mouth lets go.

A deep stillness finds them, as she lets her body soak in the satisfying sensations. 

Lethargic and satiated, her eyes flutter open to find him watching her with the same level of wonder that he often does after giving her an orgasm. 

His face like this is what she has come to associate most with her afterglow. 

She tugs at his left forearm for him to join her at the head of the bed. 

Grinning, he uses his other hand to swipe at his glistening beard in a single smooth motion.

Dios. He is so sexy. 

Following her cue, he moves up her body, leaving errant kisses along her torso. She delights in the affectionate nuzzles he gives her nipples before he slides into the empty space next to her.

Turning to him, she lets her fingers brush against his beard, coated in her excitement.

“Eso fue … increíble,” she says.

He smiles. 

She nuzzles his cheek, reveling in the comingling of their two scents on his facial hair.

“Aceite natural para barba,” she murmurs, giving him a lazy kiss on the mouth. 

He hums in response. 

“Tan trabajadora, esta boca,” she mumbles through another kiss. 

He returns her kisses with equal languor. 

“Y pensar que debería haber sido yo la que no te dejaba dormir a _ti_.”

“Habrá más noches, Raquel.”

It is a promise.

✺

Pulling a sheet over their bodies, he lies down on his side facing her. 

His hand slips around her waist, as their noses almost touch on the shared pillow.

“¿Lista para dormir?” he asks.

Her fingers slide up his arm playfully. 

“Aún no.”

Sergio smiles knowingly but does not protest.

He is still wearing his pyjama bottoms and a part of her is tempted to reach inside to find him, but the atmosphere has changed yet again, and she finds herself content just observing him. 

He is handsome, true, but it is the way that he looks at her that allows her to lose herself in his eyes.

His gaze is as dark and deep as the ocean. 

He seems equally content to just look at her, and it warms her soul.

She lets her fingers caress his cheek. 

He closes his eyes and leans into her touch. 

Sighing, he drops kisses on her open palm. 

“¿Mhm?” she asks. 

He sighs again. “Solamente más … pensamientos.”

“¿Mhm?”

He pauses for a moment, opening his eyes to meet hers. Then he clears his throat. 

“Sé que estás aquí, pero de alguna manera … todavía no puedo creer que estés aquí. Es absurdo y … desconcertante.”

A part of her wants to reassure him of her realness with kisses and orgasms, but she is loath to interrupt this moment of him bearing his soul. 

“Yo también me siento así.”

“¿De verdad?”

She nods. “Todo esto aún me parece un poco irreal.” 

“Pero estuviste aquí hace menos de dos meses,” he says, trying to rationalize this dreamlike feeling. 

She lets her fingers drift across his shoulder.

“¿También te sentiste así la primera vez que vine?” 

“Un poco. ¿Y tú?”

She nods.

“Pero ahora …”

“¿Mhm?”

He turns his gaze to the ceiling, perplexed.

“Pero ahora te mudaste aquí. Estás aquí _de verdad_.”

She watches in wonder as various emotions dance across his face. 

Misconstruing her silence, he tries to explain. 

“Disculpa, quiero decir … no es que haya dudado de ti o de tus intenciones o de tu sinceridad. No es eso …”

“Lo sé,” she whispers. 

He opens his mouth as if to say something, but nothing comes out. 

He looks down in embarrassment, and she feels his body tense beneath her touch. 

She lets her fingers drift to the nape of his neck and into his hair.

“No hay prisa. Ya estoy aquí,” she says, as her fingers caress him reassuringly.

He can tell her when he is ready. 

“Estoy aquí, Sergio. Estoy contigo.” 

His eyes find hers again, and now they are sparkling. 

“Dilo otra vez,” he pleads.

As she repeats the phrase, she hopes he can see the same words in her eyes. 

“Estoy contigo, Sergio. Por fin, estoy contigo.”

“Gracias,” he whispers, pressing his closed lips to hers. 

✺

Their foreheads touch, as their noses cuddle. 

His hand slides across her lower back, pressing into her skin soothingly. 

She sighs, content, letting her eyes close.

He inhales and exhales. 

“He estado esperando este momento por más de un año,” he whispers.

✺

It is the first time that he has verbalized it so explicitly, and it finally dawns on her what waiting for her had truly entailed. 

It meant waking up every day, hoping that today might be _the day_. The day that she would find the hidden clue _and_ decide to give them a second chance. 

For three hundred and sixty consecutive nights, he had fallen asleep disappointed. 

The last thought makes her heart ache. 

It had been a long year for her too, but she had not been waiting. Not in the same way. 

She brushes her lips against his to acknowledge his statement.

His body shifts closer and she welcomes him, tangling her legs with his, as his arm holds her tightly.

He does not say it again, but his words from earlier in the day echo in her heart.

_Vale la pena esperarte._

✺

He exhales, as his hold on her softens.

She lets her fingers move through his hair, stroking affectionately. 

“Parece que …” she begins.

His eyes, filled with curiosity, blink open to find hers.

“… atraes planes a largo plazo.” 

She sees his lips twitch, and then they slowly curl up into a genuine smile. 

“Pues … supongo que sí.”

He hums, as his fingers trace shapes across her back. 

“Gracias por haber venido. Otra vez,” he whispers.

“Gracias por haberme esperado. Otra vez.”

Their first reunion in Palawan had been a tornado of excitement and ecstasy that tore into a whirlwind of planning for the most important extraction of their lives. So much so that now might be the first time that they are reflecting _together_ on all the non-urgent things that making a new life on the other side of the world entails. 

Unlike before, tonight’s mood is laced with certainty, and their hushed tones make it all feel more intimate and authentic. 

“Gracias por aceptar a mi madre y a mi hija.”

“Gracias por aceptar el inadaptado que soy.”

Se susurran sentimientos que quieren compartir, sin necesitad de una respuesta o una negación de que no es una carga para el otro. Porque realmente no lo es. 

Pero son miedos profundos que los dejaban dando vueltas noche tras noche, en sus momentos más bajos y más oscuros, por mucho más tiempo del que se conocen.

Y para consolarse durante el año que habían pasado separados, se convencían cada uno por si mismo, día tras día, de que el breve tiempo que habían pasado juntos durante el atraco no era suficiente para que el otro se diera cuenta del tamaño de su respectivo bagaje. Y que, si se hubieran conocido por más de una semana, todos sus defectos hubieran salido a la luz, así trastornando la burbuja de amor y pasión que habían creado en tan pocos días. Esto se decían para consolarse, para que lo que habían perdido doliese un poquito menos. 

Revelan estos miedos ahora, anhelando que la certeza de la noche los quema a cenizas. 

✺

She sighs.

¿Cómo llegó a ser dueño de cada llave de las cámaras más íntimas de su alma?

He leans in to place a soft kiss on her cheek.

She sighs again. 

He drops another chaste kiss beside her mouth, and his hand gently nudges at her shoulder.

Smiling, she obeys his cue, lying down on her back, as he props himself on an elbow to make his task easier. 

She watches him, peppering her skin with the gentlest of kisses, as if directly answering her question.

Sergio just being Sergio right now touches her very soul, and an unexpected knot forms in her throat, as she feels her eyes mist. 

Of all his many qualities, it is his authentic generosity that disarms her the most. 

He never demands anything, and yet he accepts everything. 

It is like the universe, after royally fucking up, finally sent her the only man alive that she could ever fully trust. 

The wait to be with him has felt eternal.

Tears pool beneath her closed eyelids, as she feels her heart constrict with emotion. 

She finally gets to live her life with the best partner she never even knew how to wish for. 

His mouth moves to her ear, alternating between small kisses and small licks across every fraction of her skin. 

His fingertips dance across her chest, and his touch is so chaste that she finds it all the more erotic in contrast to his increasingly mischievous mouth. 

She turns her head slightly to give him better access to her neck, which results in a faint chuckle from him. Instead, her earlobe is between his lips, and he sucks slowly. Leisurely. 

She lets her fingers slide through his wavy hair, eliciting a small hum from him. 

The sound reverberates through her ear, and she feels so loved. 

Inhaling deeply, the knot in her throat finally relaxes, and she lets the tears spill down her face. 

Like Sergio and Paula earlier in the day, it is her turn to cry in relief. 

He looks up to meet her eyes, and whatever he sees makes him pause.

She smiles in response, nodding reassuringly, and then her fingers descend to the nape of his neck to draw him in for a kiss. 

Hungry to taste him again, her tongue slips between his lips, and she lets out a happy sigh. 

His tongue strokes hers unhurriedly, as his hand finds her hair. 

Unlike this afternoon, her tresses offer no resistance when he runs his fingers through them. He seems to enjoy the novelty too because he repeats the motion over and over again, moaning into her mouth.

She cannot help but compliment him. 

“Trabajaste duro para liberarme de esos nudos.”

He smiles, capturing her lips again. 

He tilts his head to the side, and she loves that he is the one bringing them closer.

He moans deeply, waking up the butterflies in her abdomen from their brief nap. 

There are not enough hours in the night to do everything that she has missed doing to him. 

Flirting, she withdraws her tongue, and without missing a beat, his follows hers, just like she knew he would. 

She suckles his tongue, and he groans into her mouth. 

His mouth pulls back to take a breath, as his forehead leans against hers. 

She has missed him so much. 

She has missed the intimacy of her forehead touching his, of him nuzzling her nose, of panting into his mouth when she is supposed to be catching her breath. 

She has missed everything about him. 

A flood of emotions invades her chest, as more hot tears flow freely down her cheeks, releasing every single anxiety about this trip that she has kept locked tightly in dozens of tiny chests in her mind. There are so many worries that they all blur together and she cannot keep track. It is just as well because she would rather focus on the man in front of her. 

He places a single soft kiss on her left cheekbone, and then another on the right cheekbone. 

His hands cup her face, and his thumbs brush her cheeks, drying her tears. 

Her heart swells again. 

Nuzzling her nose, his eyes meet hers, as he whispers.

“Ahora estás conmigo. Y yo estoy contigo.” 

✺

Leaning into his nuzzles with a hum, her fingers drift across his chest.

She flicks his nipple with tenderness, and he moans quietly.

His mouth finds hers, and she slips her tongue past his lips without preamble, as her palm slides down his ribs.

He groans more loudly this time, and she feels the heat between her legs intensify. She cannot wait to finally wrap her fingers around him again.

Her nail traces a circle around his navel, and then her fingertips glide down his lower abdomen. 

She feels his hand on hers, and his fingers slip between hers.

Dios. The thought of their hands touching him together turns her on even more. He is so much more adventurous in bed than one might think. 

But contrary to her sudden fantasy, he brings their joined hands to his chest, placing her fingers at his other nipple.

She flicks it gently, and he moans into her mouth again.

His hand cups her breast, rubbing his thumb across her hard nipple, and she gasps as a tingle runs through her. 

Her whole body is one fire today, and she is more than ready again. 

His thumb disappears from her body, and when he slips it between their joined lips, she attacks it hungrily, licking and sucking it with the same fervor she would another part of his body.

Pulling his hand away, he groans into her mouth again, as his wet thumb finds her other nipple, stroking it sensually.

His tongue slips into her mouth, as her hand loops around his head, pulling him closer.

Everything today feels like utter bliss. 

His nails graze along the lines of her ribs, and across the left side of her abdomen.

Reaching her mound of Venus, his fingertips twirl through the wisps of hair, playing with them the way he likes to do. 

His movements slow with each swirl until they stop, completely still.

She whimpers in frustration. She is not going to make it through anoth—

Pulling his mouth away, his eyes fix on hers, as his hand finally slides between her legs, cupping her sex.

Pressing the length of his middle finger against her slit, he crooks it slowly and his fingertip slips through her slick folds, making her gasp in surprise.

The intensity in his eyes grows in step with his hardening cock against her thigh.

Watching him watch her so intently while he touches her is one of her biggest turn ons.

His fingers slide up one side of her inner lips, and down the other, her slippery layers relishing every attentive stroke. 

“Estás tan húmeda,” he whispers. 

“Sólo para ti.”

He growls, licking his lips, as his fingers trace her clit in large, slow circles.

She is so fucking aroused and impatient that she tilts her pelvis to increase the pressure. 

His fingertips follow her cue, and she lets her muscles relax again, focusing on the delicious sensations that build inside her.

“Bésame.”

His lips descend onto hers in time to swallow her moan, as his tongue plunges into her with a groan of his own. 

Dios. His mouth is a heaven of its own.

He rubs steady halos around her clit, and it feels like his fingers were created with the sole purpose of taking her over the edge. Over, and over, and over again. 

She wants to reach down for him, but his fingers and his lips move to the divine rhythm of the music, and it all feels so good that she gets lost in her own pleasure. 

The waves builds inside her, and she gasps for air.

“Sergio … Sergio …”

His fingers gain speed as he nuzzles her face, whispering.

“Estás tan jodidamente mojada.”

Joder.

She moans loudly, and his mouth finds hers again. 

There is no universe in which Sergio talking dirty to her will ever fail to turn her on. 

She feels the rush of pleasure approach, and she arches her back in anticipation.

Suddenly, his fingertips abandon her clit and drift gently down her folds.

“¿Qué coño?” she mutters, roughly breaking off the kiss and falling back onto the bed. 

This is the first time that he has failed to inform her in advance. 

She glares at him, trying to ignore his touch, but unable to tell him to stop.

His eyes avoid hers by roaming other parts of her face, but he struggles not to smile, as his fingers continue to move delicately along her less sensitive layers.

She crosses her arms defiantly, wanting an explanation. “¿Mhm?”

“Pensé que sería una pena desperdiciar tanto … aceite natural para la barba.”

“¿ _Tú_ pensaste?”

“Bueno, pues … sí.”

The combination of contrition and brazenness dancing across his features is surprisingly alluring, and she can no longer tell whether she wants to laugh, slap, or fuck him.

Maybe all three at the same time? 

Intriguing. 

She has to admit that his new level of boldness is making her very horny indeed. 

Time to find that orgasm again.

She lets a hand drift along her body to caress her breast and pinch her nipple. 

“Sergio …” she moans. 

His length pokes her thigh, as his fingers press into her delicate skin, sliding up and down her wet path. 

Moving her other hand to his groin, her fingers stroke him over his pyjama bottoms.

His breath hitches, and then he exhales, groaning her name.

“Raquel …”

“Sergio … por favor …” she begs.

His fingers finally return to her clitoris again, rubbing perfect halos into the engorged skin.

“Así … así ... así,” she moans, feeling the residual feelings of his earlier touch quickly compound with the new sensation. 

Her fingers run up his length in smooth, repetitive motions. 

Raquel is rewarded with a breathy, “¡Dios!” and a fully hard erection beneath her touch. 

Everything about him right now turns her on, and she feels her climax mount as Sergio’s fingers move in flawless, steady motions. 

“Sí, más, más,” she rasps, rubbing her hard nipple.

Her other hand presses harder, knowing exactly how to excite him over the fabric without pushing him over the edge. 

She delights in knowing his body in the same way that he knows hers. 

“Me pones tanto,” he groans, capturing her lower lip and puling it into her mouth.

Dios. Those fucking words. 

“Sí, sí, sí,” she moans, arching her back, as she feels the waves gather speed in the distance. 

Suddenly, his fingers glide down her slit, away from her clitoris. 

Again!

She groans in exasperation, falling back onto the bed and pulling her hand and mouth away from him. 

Anger bubbles inside her, and she is shocked at how different edging feels when she does not expect it, and she is not sure that she likes it. 

But, she is willing to see it through to the end at least once, before deciding whether to ban it from her repertoire. 

Still unsure of how to respond, she remains silent.

His fingers move to gently brush along her outer labia. 

Dios, he is always so fucking gentle at exactly the right moment. How is she supposed to stay mad at him?

His mouth drops hot kisses down her neck, and she gives in immediately, moaning more loudly than she intends.

“Shhhhh,” he whispers.

He licks at her collarbone and then his open, wet mouth slides down her chest to her right nipple, as his body shifts to rest on bent knees. 

The surface of his tongue swirls around every fraction of her breast, his teeth grazing playfully at the wet skin. 

Everything he ever does is so fucking unbelievably hot that she does not even know why it keeps surprising her.

Maybe because he is so unpretentious about it all? 

The tip of his tongue traces around her wet areola, and then he sucks at her nipple. Once. Twice. Three times. 

She moans, more quietly this time, letting her fingers slip into his hair. 

Groaning into her skin, he continues suckling her nipple in repetition, as his tongue flicks against the hard tip.

He is so erotically dedicated, and she just feels hornier and hornier.

His fingers between her legs feel featherlike compared to his hot mouth on her skin, and she wants more of everything.

She thrusts her core against his hand.

Sergio’s fingers slip through her slit again, moaning as he slides up and down her extra slippery folds.

Her wetness really turns him on. 

And that turns _her_ on. 

Joder. She needs that orgasm. 

“El otro,” she commands.

His tongue licks down the valley of her breasts before finding her other nipple and lavishing it with his hot, wet attention. 

Raquel groans again, and then the palm of his big hand is on her mouth, silencing her. 

She has no fucking idea how he is managing to keep his weight off her, but the position will not be comfortable for long, and she just needs to fucking come as soon as possible. 

She moans against his hand to test the hush factor. The improvement is significant. 

Fucking genius. 

Thankfully, the genius’ fingers find her clit again.

He groans again, and she cannot comprehend how he has managed to retain control of his libido all night long. 

¿Podría haber tomado algún tipo de antiafrodisíaco? ¿Medicamentos con receta? ¿Podrían ser peligrosos?

Her mind drifting to unsexy topics is usually the first warning sign of losing her climax to frustration or exhaustion, and usually both, so she refocuses her mind to the sensations in her body. 

It all feels good, but she needs more.

His hand prevents her from speaking, so she thrusts her pelvis into his other hand again.

He chuckles, increasing the pressure of the halos that he rubs over her clit.

His mouth enthusiastically suckles her sensitive nipple over and over again, as he moans into her skin. It inspires her to let one of her own hands play with her lonely breast while her other one roams through his hair.

Raquel revels in hearing him groan, and she feels the waves gathering in the distance.

She needs just a little bit more, but she is not taking any chances this time.

As the orgasm mounts inside her, she slows down her breathing and keeps her back firmly on the mattress. The hand in his hair moves lethargically, and she relaxes her legs. 

But she kneads her own breast sensually, and focuses her mind on his eager mouth sucking her sensitive nipple and his dexterous fingers rubbing her wet, craving, swollen clit. 

¡Dios! He feels so good against her skin.

Sergio groans again, and she has to stop herself from gripping his hair and tensing her legs.

The movements of his mouth and his fingers speed up, and many overlapping waves rise up inside her. She is so close.

Maintaining her composure with effort, she lets out a lazy sigh in encouragement, and his ministrations only become quicker and more coordinated. 

Familiar piano notes of her favorite song drift into the room, and finally, she can feel the waves of pleasure all surging towards her at the same time.

Her hand grips his bicep tightly.

_¡Ni se te ocurra moverte!_

The rush of ecstasy amplifies as it charges at her, arriving closer and closer, until she finally falls off the edge, moaning against the palm of his hand.

His body twitches in surprise, but she digs her nails into his arm, and his fingers do not stop.

“Córrete para mí de nuevo,” he whispers.

Trusting him, her body arches off the bed, as she comes and comes and comes and comes and comes and comes and comes, voicing one long perpetual moan.

His fingers move eagerly against her center, as his tongue swirls around her nipple energetically.

Tingles spread through her body, as ever more new pulses of pleasure find her.

Her eyes roll back in her head and she sees a whole universe beneath her eyelids. 

Raquel’s entire body trembles beneath his touch, shuddering and shaking, but Sergio’s ministrations do not waver. 

The new waves recede, as she feels more and more ripples wash over her, satisfaction reaching every nook and cranny of her being, over and over and over again. 

Her clitoris and nipple suddenly feel overstimulated, and she lets her body fall limp onto the bed.

Instantly, his fingers and lips stop moving.

Releasing her mouth, he props himself back onto his elbow, at eye-level with her. 

Reveling in the glorious relief of her mind-numbing orgasm, she watches him through half-lidded eyes.

He brings his glistening fingers to his mouth, sucking her juices off them, one at a time.

Dios. It is so erotic.

 _He_ is so erotic. 

She sighs with desire, and his movements slow in response.

Drawing her lower lip into her mouth, she reminds herself to breathe deeply.

She is just about ready to go again.

Joder.

✺

He snakes his arm around her mid-torso, tucking his fingers beneath her ribs to pull her closer to him.

She sighs, content. Snuggling in his arms is the best feeling. 

He nuzzles her nose playfully. 

“Eso fue ingenioso. Retorcido, pero ingenioso.” 

His voice is laced with awe, and she lets out a little laugh. 

“Sólo estaba combatiendo fuego con fuego.”

He concedes her point with a tilt of his head, and then he pauses for a moment.

“Pero ... ¿te gustó?” he asks seriously. 

“Bueno …” She considers how to express herself without discouraging him. “Respecto al control del orgasmo, el jurado sigue reunido sobre el elemento de sorpresa, pero …”

He waits expectantly.

“… disfruto de tu audacia.” 

His eyes light up.

“Sigue así,” she adds.

She can already see the wheels turning in his head. 

His face breaks into a cheeky grin. “Ahora estás agotada, ¿verdad?”

Aiming to catch him off guard, she pushes his shoulder away from her, causing him to fall on his back, as she straddles his torso. 

It is her turn now. 

She looks him straight in the eye. 

“¡Ni de coña!”

✺

Inching down his body, she hovers above the tent created by his erection, before abruptly dropping down to sit on him.

He gasps. 

Grinning, she grinds her wet center against his pyjama-clad cock, observing his breathing become labored in just a few simple rolls of her hips. 

Sergio groans. 

“Acabo de lavar ese pijama esta mañana.” 

It is an observation more than a complaint, and it must be his way of slowing down his waves of pleasure.

But it does not mean that she cannot tease him.

She lifts her hips just enough to lose contact with his length. 

“¿Te estás quejando?”

His eyes go wide. 

“¡No, no, no! ¡En absoluto!” he exclaims, his hands landing on her knees in reassurance. 

“Muy bien,” she drawls, letting her hips drop.

He gasps again. 

He must be close.

“Estarás lavando un montón de pijamas si insistes en usarlos mientras estoy cachonda.”

Amusement crosses his face, but he purses his lips, trying very hard not to express himself.

She rolls her hips against him, but more gently this time. “¿Mhm?”

He sighs in pleasure, but shakes his head.

She grinds into him again. Hard.

He gasps.

“¿Mhm?” she demands. 

“Bueno, según tu lógica, nunca usaría un pijama porque ...”

She raises her eyebrows, daring him to say it.

“…porque siempre estás cachonda.” 

She moves her hips again, puncturing every word with a roll. 

“Y. Tú. No. Lo. ¿Estás?” 

His eyes darken.

“Lo estoy … para ti.” 

His words set her lower abdomen on fire.

The fucking pyjama has to go.

With a final roll of her hips, she slides down to his thighs, as her fingers reach for the waistband of his pants.

She chuckles at the circular shape of wetness that she has left on the white fabric around his crotch. 

Raquel tugs at the sides of the fabric as he lifts his ass to help her get it off. 

His erection springs free in all its glory, and she feels her mouth salivate.

Pulling the garment down his legs, she is distracted by his torso twisting as he reaches for something in the bedside table.

Finally throwing the pyjama onto the floor, she kneels next to his thighs, letting her eyes feast on the hardness that she provokes. 

His fingers slide around his own length, and he strokes himself slowly. 

Once. Twice. Three times.

Joder. 

Her breath hitches in her throat, and she aches to touch herself too.

She looks up to meet his eyes, and he looks as desperate as she feels. 

Spreading her thighs to give him a good view, she lets her own fingers slip into her folds.

His eyes go wide, and a guttural moan escapes him. 

Joder.

Watching him caress himself while he watches her do the same is beyond arousing. 

She forces herself to slow her own touch. She might only have one more orgasm left in her tonight, but she has yet to give him even one, and she can feel the exhaustion catching up to her.

Something brushes against her knee. 

She looks down, and it is a condom wrapper between his fingers. 

She looks up at him. 

“¿Ya?”

He nods. 

She is both disappointed and relieved. Definitely more disappointed than relieved, but still. Fucking exhaustion. 

“¿Estás seguro?”

He nods.

“Habrá más noches,” he repeats his promise. “Y me falta tan poco.”

She feels her heart flutter as heat swirls inside her. She cannot tell which sensation is stronger. 

Leaning forward, her two hands land on the mattress on either side of his neck, as her lips descend onto his. 

She initiates a gentle kiss, licking and suckling softly on his upper lip, mildly distracted by the tickle of his moustache. 

His tongue slides along her lower lip, as his hands find her breasts, and he rubs her pebbled nipples between his fingers. It is the first time tonight that they have received the same attention at the same time, and her body delights in the symmetry. If he had two mouths, she would never let him get out of bed. 

She dips in and out of his mouth, and he mirrors her, their tongues and lips dancing enthusiastically. 

It is a wet, sloppy kiss that does nothing to betray the ticking of her exhaustion timer. He deserves it. 

Gently, she pulls back to look him in the eye. 

“¿Tienes algún pedido especial? Las actividades sin preservativos también son opciones válidas.”

She wants him to choose whatever he wants the most.

He does not even have to think about it. 

“Móntame.” 

✺

Straddling his thighs, she bends down to place a chaste kiss on the shaft of his magnificent cock. And another. And another.

Letting her tongue join the fun, she runs its wide surface up his length.

“Raquel,” he warns her, but his voice is tinged with such desperation that she cannot even be annoyed. 

As much as she may want this, it is not what he asked for. 

Refocusing, she sits upright again.

Her fingers gently pull the remainder of his foreskin back, as her eyes glance up at him for any sign of discomfort.

Taking the already opened foil square that he holds out for her, she pulls out the lubricated rubber material.

Seven days. 

More like seven nights. Seven long nights. 

Checking that the condom is the right way up, she places it on his head. Pinching the tip of the condom, she ensures that there is enough space for his fluid, as she rolls it down his full length.

Lifting her hips, her knees inch up the sides of his body, stopping when she estimates her entrance to be just above his erection.

Meeting Sergio’s eyes, her fingers encircle him at his base, and she is delighted when his hand reaches down to rest on her knuckles.

His other hand finds her knee, and she slips her palm over his knuckles, wrapping her fingers over the side of his hand.

She squeezes his hand softly, and he smiles. 

The feeling of unity that she experiences with him is an orgasm of the soul. 

Guiding him to her, she lets his tip slide down her folds until he reaches her entrance. 

Hovering for a brief moment, she watches him watch their sexes meet again. 

The desire in his eyes is only matched by the blazing fire in her lower abdomen. 

Her hips descend slowly, letting him enter her inch by inch. 

They both groan deeply, almost at the same time. 

Hands move out of the way, and she sheathes him completely. 

He fills her, and she needs a moment to get used to him again. 

Dios. It has been too long. 

Too long to not have him inside her. Too long to not feel his skin against hers. Too long to not have his mouth on her lips. Too long to not have his fingers gripping hers. Too long to not elicit his moans. Too long to not make him grin. Too long to not even get to talk to him. 

It has been a fucking eternity. 

✺

Unable to communicate directly while she was in Spain, Sergio had devised an elaborate code system, where she picked out specific letters from random pieces of mail to form a phrase—a message from him.

For security reasons, the messages were only one-way, and neither timely nor relevant to the extraction. They were simply little notes to let her know that he was thinking about her. 

They came three times a week, and she had not been that excited to receive mail since she was a tween. 

They started off a little bizarre but cute, in Sergio’s own unique way. 

_El bar de bambú estaba cerrado hoy._

_El mar te extraña._

_Mis mejillas no duelen de sonreír._

_Treinta y tres días._

_La casa está callada._

_El paraíso invernal está listo._

Almost at the halfway mark, little by little the messages grew bolder.

 _Susurras en mis sueños._

_Tus ojos, tu piel, tu sabor._

_Mis labios en tus labios._

_Tu pecho contra el mío._

_Mi mano en tu cabello._

_Tus curvas debajo de mí._

_Nuestros dedos entrelazados._

_Tus piernas abrazándome._

_Yo envuelto en ti._

_Seis días y cinco noches._

_Hoy me recorté la barba._

The last one came the day before she left her old life behind.

_Córrete para mí. Error de autocorrección. Corre hacia mí._

✺

She rolls her hips against him, and he groans.

“Dios, Raquel.”

His free hand slides up her knee and up her thigh, but before his thumb can reach her center, she stops his hand, interlacing her fingers with his instead. 

Doing the same with her other hand, she locks her gaze with his, as she leans her upper body forward.

Surprise dances across his face, but he lets her pin him down nevertheless, their joined hands on either side of his head. 

She smiles. She loves pinning him down. 

Nuzzling his nose playfully and maintaining eye contact, she whispers in her sultriest voice.

“Córrete cuando _tú_ quieras.”

His eyes darken and he looks like he wants to devour her. 

He likes her instructions, but he still asks, “¿Y tú?”

Her forehead rests on his, and she says, “Estoy bien así, te lo juro. Concéntrate en ti.”

She punctures her words with a slow roll of her hips, provoking a grunt from him. 

For extra motivation, she gives him another challenge.

“Muéstrame hasta qué punto no necesitas un afrodisíaco.” 

He growls at her words, and she can see the desire burning in his eyes. 

Good.

She rolls her hips again, slowly.

His palms push against hers, their fingers still interlaced, as he effortlessly propels her upright again. 

She raises her eyebrows, and in response he places a kiss on each of her hands before releasing her fingers and returning his hands to her thighs, giving her a little squeeze.

Raquel wonders if he will indeed do what she has instructed. He is such a giving lover that he has never yet let himself come before ensuring that she was at least on the cusp herself. 

Her hands reach behind her back, and she lets her fingers dip between his legs, scraping her short nails against the inside of his thighs.

He inhales sharply, and she loves having this ability to catch him off guard like this, of surprising him in ways that he enjoys. It is a power she can easily get drunk on, and she does not think that he would mind.

His eyes are fixed on her, and she licks her lips generously, as she rocks her hips again.

Giving his legs another seductive scratch, she brings her hands to her breasts. 

His hands find her thighs, as his fingers slide along her skin. 

“Así … despacio,” he rasps.

Her pelvis moves in unhurried, repetitive loops, forwards and backwards, forwards and backwards, as her fingers caress her own soft flesh, for his benefit as much as her own.

Eyes full of lust, he groans deeply, gripping her legs. 

He loves touching her thighs, and she loves that he loves them. 

He makes her feel so fucking beautiful. 

Moaning softly, she grinds against him leisurely, loving the raw intensity in his eyes that she has come to know so well. 

He groans in response, and so does she, and so does he, and so does she. 

Their breathy exhalations fuse into a soft beat of human satisfaction, sighing in unison to the gentle roll of her hips, prolonging his pleasure for as long as he wishes.

✺

He thrusts into her gently, and that is her cue.

Resting her hands on his shoulders, she leans forward, letting him slide out halfway.

Exchanging a nod, her hips fall back as his hips thrust upwards, and she feels her flesh collide with his as he fills her again.

They move together, reading the rhythm in each other’s eyes, as the noise of heavy breathing and skin slapping fills the room.

She has even missed the aggressive stings and sounds of this act because she knows it is Sergio crashing into her. 

Over and over and over again. 

Joder.

Moaning, she slips her hand between her legs, and she grips his shoulder for more balance. 

His eyes drift to her moving breasts, inches from his face, and his thrusts speed up, as do his moans.

“Joder,” he grunts. 

Her fingers rub her clit as she groans his name, rising and falling around him. 

“Sergio, Sergio, Sergio.”

“Raquel, joder, joder, joder,” he chokes out, shutting his eyelids tightly.

His palms land on her upper chest to support her, as he gestures at her left shoulder, almost yelling.

“¡Tápame la boca!”

Using her right hand instead, she covers his mouth with fingers coated in her own excitement.

His eyes go wide and his groans grow desperate, as his fingers grip her shoulders and his thrusts become erratic. 

He truly had been so close. 

She clenches her pelvic muscles as hard as she can, pushing against him with renewed energy, moaning his name the way he likes it. 

“Sergio … Sergio ...”

She is not going to come again, but in this very moment, she could not care less. 

She rides him and rides him and rides him and rides him and rides him.

And even as his thrusts lose momentum and his arms weaken, she still rides him.

Moving and moaning above him, she gives him everything that her body has to give, as the palm of her hand muffles his loud guttural groans.

✺

His fingers brush against hers, and she lets her exhausted body finally collapse into him. 

She buries her face in the crook of his neck, panting into his skin, as his hands slip around her waist, tightening around her. 

His lips brush against her ear.

“¡Joder!, cómo te he extrañado, Raquel. He extrañado esto. Lo he extrañado todo.”

✺

She feels him soften inside her, as Sergio’s arms gently push her upright again.

His fingers hold the base of the condom against his penis, and she lifts her hips to let him slide out.

She crawls to the bedside table for a tissue, as he carefully takes the condom off and ties it. 

Handing him the tissue and kneeling by his hip, she delicately pulls his foreskin forward to its natural position. 

Bending down, her lips drop a chaste kiss on his wet tip, and avoiding the rest of his length, she trails pecks along his groin and up his abdomen. 

She feels his fingers get lost in her hair, and it seems he cannot keep his hands off her either.

A moan escapes her lips.

She wishes her desire for him and her energy levels would enter into a binding contract. 

Her lips move up his chest, and her tongue around his nipple makes him groan.

It is hard to tell who is more helpless, him or her. 

Back to peppering kisses, she moves up his collarbone and his neck until she reaches his mouth. 

She presses her lips against his, and he groans again, but neither mouth opens. 

Resting her forehead against his, she nuzzles his nose affectionately. 

“Ahora vuelvo,” she says, dropping another peck on his lips.

Sliding the canopy curtains aside, she reluctantly pushes herself off the bed to go pee. There is no place for a UTI in paradise. 

Picking up the empty glass from the bedside table, she glances back at him. 

Sprawled naked, he watches her with half-lidded eyes. 

Raquel smiles and turns to make her way to the bathroom. 

She feels her face break into a grin when she hears him echo her own words to her. 

“Date prisa.”

✺

Washing her hands, she looks at herself in the mirror.

She smiles.

She looks the same as the woman who looked at herself in the mirror a week ago. But she feels like a completely different person.

And her smile looks different. It looks more genuine.

Because it feels more genuine. 

Because it is more genuine.

Because of him.

✺

She walks back to the bed, and her path crosses Sergio’s in the middle of the room. 

They both slow down as their arms brush against each other, and her fingers intertwine with his.

He squeezes her hand softly, leaning in to nuzzle her temple.

Her lips land on his shoulder, flicking her tongue lightly at his skin.

They both sigh in unison.

“¡Ve!” she whispers, grudgingly releasing his hand.

He drops a kiss on her temple before continuing towards the bathroom.

She watches him walk away.

The fingers that just held hers dance against his thigh. 

✺

Sergio has already rearranged the pillows on the bed, so she goes about straightening the sheets and folding the bedspread at the foot of the bed.

Noticing their discarded clothing folded on the chair, she briefly wonders whether to put on a nightgown, but her dilemma is short-lived. She expects him to return to bed fully naked, so she might as well return the favor. 

Climbing onto the bed again, she closes the canopy curtains behind her. 

She is not expecting any more orgasms, but she is not clairvoyant. 

Slipping beneath the sheet, she lets her eyes focus on the thatched roof. She has no idea what time it is, but the candles burned out long ago, and even the music has stopped. 

She hears the soothing roll of the waves, as a gentle glow resembling moonlight seeps into the bedroom. 

This really is paradise.

✺

She feels the mattress shift beneath her, and she turns towards him, blinking her tired eyes open.

Lying on his side, his eyes meet hers in the darkness. 

She snuggles up to him, tangling her legs with his. It feels so different now that it is skin to skin.

“Me alegra que no llevas pijama.”

He chuckles. “Ahora te tienen miedo.”

She laughs. 

“Pero yo no,” he clarifies solemnly. 

She cannot tell if this is supposed to be flirty as well as funny, but it does not really matter. She wants as much humor in her life as she can get. 

She strokes his cheek, loving the way his sideburns fuse into his beard.

He closes his eyes at her touch, and her fingers trace his powerful jawline. 

“Raquel …” he sighs, content.

She responds with a sigh of her own.

“Muchas gracias,” she whispers.

His eyes open. “Por qué?”

“Por el letrero, los colchones, la música …”

He smiles. 

“… la pomada, el dosel modificado, el–”

“¿Crees que ayudará?”

She nods enthusiastically, and he grins. 

“Has pensado en _todo_.”

“Lo intenté, por lo menos,” he says, a hint of skepticism in his voice.

She caresses his cheek.

“Muchas gracias para _todo_ lo de hoy.”

He smiles. “No hay de qué.” 

“Sí, hay de qué,” she insists, sliding her fingers into his hair. “Sí, hay de qué.”

“Para vosostras … qualquier cosa.”

It is impossible not to believe him. 

“Sergio …” she sighs, happiness shimmering inside her. 

Leaning into him, their lips part at the same time and their tongues slip past each other’s lips. 

She pushes her torso flush against his, as his arm envelops her.

Moaning and groaning, they tilt their heads to opposite sides to deepen their kiss.

Her heart thumps in her chest, when his fingers slide down to squeeze her buttock hard, and she loves the deep groan that escapes his throat when she does the same. 

They nip and tug at each other, tongues licking and playing and competing and acquiescing, and Raquel feels like she is free falling through a groundless universe. 

She will never crash because there is no bottom, only an exhilarating descent with no end in sight. 

It is a thrilling rush of adrenaline without the fear.

It is a night of sweaty dancing in a summer dress but her thighs do not chafe. 

It is making love with no worries about an unplanned pregnancy or STIs. 

He is an inebriating drug and she just wants more and more. 

And he promised there will be more. 

He will always give her more

And she will not have to beg for it. 

He will give her everything.

He will give _them_ everything.

And even when he cannot, he will still try.

✺

She feels the exhaustion about to overwhelm her, as they pause to take a breath.

Everything feels like it is happening in slow motion. 

“¿Cansada?”

She chuckles weakly. “Creo que es una misión cumplida.”

“Bien,” he whispers, as she revels in the soothing feeling of his fingers moving across her lower back. 

She leans in for another kiss, and her lips move lazily against his.

She mumbles, “Estoy tan cansada, pero no me canso de ti.”

He reciprocates just as languidly and affectionately. 

“¿Puedo decirte algo?” he asks. 

“Mhm …”

He squeezes her waist softly, as he whispers, “Yo tampoco me canso de ti.”

“Dilo otra vez,” she pleads.

“No me canso de ti, Raquel.”

She sighs at the way he adds her name at the end. 

“Pero ya no hay prisa.”

He is saying and doing the most perfect things and she never wants him to stop. 

Yes, she wants to do everything _to_ him, but even more so, she wants to do everything _with_ him.

She wants to spend every second of every day just living a loving life. With him.

Their lips graze and brush against each other, caressing more than kissing, as exhaustion finally overtakes her.

“Estoy contigo,” are the last words she hears, and with her lips fused to his and her body safely entangled with his, her mind finally drifts into a peaceful sleep, filled with dreams of family days at the beach and passionate nights in the bedroom.

✺

_Nuestra habitación._

_Nuestra familia._

_Nuestra vida nueva._

❂ ♡ ◉ ♥ ✺


End file.
